


easy to reach

by otachi



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Borderline Personality Disorder, Depression, Drug Use, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Social Anxiety, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:32:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otachi/pseuds/otachi
Summary: Connor reads Evan's letter. Evan doesn't expect him to actually help.(on a temporary hiatus for now)





	1. swim with real sharks

**Author's Note:**

> title and chapter title(s), future and current, from unicorn tolerance by the mountain goats. feel free to follow me on tumblr, @goldspill
> 
> updates weekly, every friday

“So what, is it like a therapy thing?” Connor asks him as he follows Evan into the school building, long legs helping him keep pace even with the way Evan walks like he’s being followed, fast and a little jumpy, eyes never quite leaving the floor. He thinks Connor is probably just purposefully ignoring the very obvious signs of his discomfort.

“W-What?” Evan manages, and then, “Not to sound rude or anything, but why are you talking to me?”

“Your letter, the ‘Dear Evan Hansen’ thing.” Connor responds, hardly answering the question, “Is it for therapy? Or one of those bullshit assignments that’s meant to help you find yourself or whatever. ‘Cause it’s pretty fucking weird, you know. Writing letters to yourself.”

Evan fidgets a little with his shirt, staring pointedly at the wall of lockers on his right hand side, and very decisively not at Connor. He isn’t scared of Connor, really, or at least no more so than most other people in the school. When you’re the kind of person who thinks everyone’s out to get you things like getting shoved, or called a freak, or whatever else, just serve as proof that they really are. At least Connor’s straightforward about it. He’s like a poison dart frog. Colour-coded as a warning sign, except Evan’s never seen Connor wearing anything but the most washed-out clothing. Maybe that’s a warning sign in itself. A glaring ‘do not touch’ that Evan is probably going to ignore. Don’t poke the bear.

“Um. It - yeah. Therapy.”

Connor makes a considering noise under his breath, hovering next to him. Evan attempts not to shrink any further into himself than he already has, pulling his textbooks from his locker and trying not to worry too much about potentially incriminating things that might have been left in said locker. Evan’s never put anything incriminating in his locker. He’s not even sure he owns anything particularly incriminating. He worries about it anyway.

“Anxiety?” Connor asks coolly, like he knows the answer already. It sends a pang of shame through Evan, who moves his mouth soundlessly for a second, trying to figure out a way to reply that doesn’t sound kind of depressing. He gives up, after a minute. Figures it’s not worth the embarrassment of waiting only to come up with nothing anyway.

“Is it that obvious?” he replies instead, going for sarcastic, the way Jared does sometimes, like if you make a joke of it no-one can take you too seriously. It ends up just sounding kind of bitter and sad. He doesn’t think it’s ever worked for Jared, either.

“You used to leave class a lot. Made it kind of obvious, because you’re not exactly subtle about it when you start freaking out. You get nervous around pretty much everyone. I’d get being nervous around me personally, ‘school shooter’ and all, but with you it’s just… everything.”

Connor cuts himself off after that, glancing to the side like he’s not sure he wants to meet Evan’s eyes. Evan, to his credit, pretends he’s not weirdly touched that someone actually noticed his absences, and equally not kind of horrified that he’s so messed up even Connor noticed.

“Sorry about that whole thing yesterday.” Connor continues, looking even more uncomfortable with the situation than he had been already, shifting gently from one foot to the other. He opens his mouth like he’s going to try and justify it, before he gives up and just waits for Evan to reply.

Evan had sort of imagined Connor apologising, some weird fantasy he’d concocted late the night before when he’d been feeling particularly self-pitying. He hadn’t thought anything would come of it, of course, because as much as he doesn’t like to pay too much heed to the rumours he hears about the other students, he knows at least some of the ones about Conor are true. In his mind it had come out stilted, kind of insincere. He’d thought it might be threatening somehow.

It doesn’t sound like any of those things. Connor sounds like he means it, as much as the whole situation pains him, and Evan can’t help but find himself feeling weirdly pleased about it. Connor obviously doesn’t want to get into it any more than he already has done, and Evan can’t blame him, either, given that they’re having this talk in the middle of the school hallways (plus the fact that Connor has a reputation, the kind he might actually want to preserve) - but it is far, far more than he’d expected. He tries to hide his surprise.

“Uh -”

“Don’t make it a thing. But I like… get it. And I felt kinda weird losing it at some kid I barely know. Especially if you’re dealing with whatever,” Connor says, raising a hand to his head and performing a weird circular gesture that Evan guesses is his way of indicating ‘mental health stuff’. “So. Yeah.”

“It’s okay,” Evan says. He doesn’t stop to think about it, but Connor, for all the stories he’s heard about him and his outbursts the day before, seems like he’s trying.

Connor blinks for a second, then smiles, just a little. It’s barely even noticeable. “Okay.”

He turns, looking as though he’s going to leave, and then pauses for a second, one hand hooked loosely around the strap of his messenger bag.

Oh, Evan thinks, just for a second, staring at Connor’s long fingers curled gently around the fabric, all fluid motion, black nails chipped and worn. He has really nice hands.

“You’re okay, right?” Connor asks, voice quiet enough that Evan’s pretty confident no-one else has heard, and that that was exactly his intention. “Just - like -”

He sounds nervous, almost. His voice doesn’t shake, he doesn’t stutter, but everything comes out a little stilted. This isn’t awkwardness - Connor’s confident, but he’s not infallible, and Evan’s heard him struggle to find words before, sometimes. He’s heard Connor sound awkward. It’s not that.

“Like.” Connor pauses again, huffing slightly and shoving his hands into his pockets like a sullen teenager (Evan supposes in many ways he is), glaring at a student across the hall. Evan’s pretty sure they hadn’t done anything to deserve it. “Your letter was. You know. And just - we don’t know each other or whatever, and I get that you’re just trying to be a nice person by letting me sign your cast and apologise and shit. We’re not friends. But. Like. If you ever need to talk about it or whatever, you can. Talk. To me. If you want?”

Evan isn’t really sure what to say to that.

“This was fucking stupid. I’m going to go,” Connor continues, hurriedly, a flush creeping over his neck, waving his hands in front of him in an expression of embarrassment Evan’s pretty sure he’s never seen Connor perform in his life. He’s sure Jared would’ve had a field day just watching it.

“No, wait -” Evan says, reaching out and placing a hand on top of Connor’s arm. He regrets it immediately, hates himself and hates that he hates himself for it, because he doesn’t make impulsive decisions, and Connor’s been - nice, friendly, even, but he’s also Connor Murphy, and he’s heard the stories. He should’ve just let Connor go, and instead he’s forcing the issue, making him uncomfortable, and he doesn’t even know what he’d been planning on saying, what he could possibly say that wouldn’t sound kind of incredibly, pathetically grateful.

“I, um,” Evan starts, pausing and trying to think of how he could possibly rectify things now, except Connor glances to his side like he’s going to try to make another break for it, tensing up and recoiling a little, and - Evan just starts talking. “That - that’d be really nice, actually. I don’t - I’m really, really bad at, like. Talking. I mean, I don’t even think I’ve had a real friend since like, 1st grade,” he continues, laughing and pretending he can’t hear how sad he sounds, “so I’m not great at conversations and that kind of thing. Being social, I mean - and sometimes, I like. Can’t talk. And I don’t know even know if I can talk about this stuff anyway, out loud, and I’m kind of worried you might end up hating me, like I really don’t want to be annoying and I know it makes me sound kind of dumb, but.” Evan takes a breath, and stares at his shoes. “We can try, maybe. If you weren’t just saying that to be nice, or because you felt sorry for me or something.”

Connor stands stock still, apparently just as lost for words as Evan feels. He glances up at him, noting his furrowed brow and trying not to take that to mean he’s made some kind of horrible mistake. He can already feel the shame and regret pooling in his gut. He decides he was probably better off not looking at Connor, and shuts his locker, waiting for the other boy to tell Evan he didn’t actually mean it, to shove him again or to just walk off or -

“Okay. Okay, sure,” Connor says, instead, and then because Connor is apparently an enigma like no other, he rummages through his bag, and pulls out a sharpie. And in a blocky, bunched scrawl, under his name, still the only name on Evan’s cast, he writes his phone number. Then he puts his pen back into his bag, shifts it so that it’s at his side instead of awkwardly held in front of him, and goes to leave.

He pauses, again. Evan wonders for a moment what else could he possibly do to shift Evan’s world view any further off its axis than he has done already today, and then, whether Connor has always seemed this indecisive about things.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Hansen,” Connor says, before he runs a hand through his hair and starts walking down the rest of the corridor. Evan’s eyes follow him the whole way, until he turns the corner, and only then does he turn back to his locker.

He thinks he’s going to be late to first period. He thinks the thought should worry him more than it does.

 

* * *

 

Evan tells Jared. He knows its a bad idea long before he does it, but it’s not like there’s anyone else he can talk to about it, and he figures as long as he doesn’t go into too much detail Jared probably won’t make into a whole thing. He does, of course.

“Oh my god,” Jared manages to get out between huffs of laughter that Evan’s pretty sure are mostly for show, given that the situation is nowhere near as funny as he’s making it out to be. “So what, you’re like, bff’s with tall, dark and emo now?”

Evan makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and resting his head on his arms, like just being around Jared had drained him of all of his energy. He makes sure his eyes are just visible enough over his cast that he can continue glaring at his sometimes-friend.

Jared stops laughing for a second as he makes eye contact with Evan, taking a steady breath like he’s trying to compose himself. It doesn’t last long. His eyes drift towards Evan’s cast and his mouth immediately quirks up, the way it always does when he’s trying not to lose it over whatever stupid thing Evan’s got himself into today. Evan scowls harder.

Still barely holding back his laughter Jared leans forward in his seat, tapping Evan’s cast with his index finger, right where Evan knows Connor’s number is written. “So,” he says, grinning far too toothily for Evan’s liking.

“Shut up.”

“What is it with you and the Murphys, dude?” Jared asks, only half-mocking him.

Evan grimaces, sitting up a little straighter and tugging on his shirt in an attempt to straighten out its nonexistent creases. He doesn’t exactly have an answer. And it’s not like he has a thing for the Murphys, or with them, or whatever Jared’s getting at - he’s spoken to Connor a handful of times, and he’s not sure they were proper conversations either. Zoe, on the other hand - well. He’s spoken to her even less, but Jared’s known about his crush on her for about as long as he’s had it, so that part makes sense at least.

“I didn’t start it,” Evan begins, trying to form a defense against an accusation he’s not even sure is being made.

“He shoved you, like, yesterday,” Jared interrupts, raising his eyebrows, mouth slanted downwards disapprovingly. Evan gets the funny feeling he’s being babied. “You remember that, right? Dude’s a dick.”

Evan refrains from mentioning the fact that it was actually Jared’s fault he got shoved, because Jared had deliberately provoked him, and that the only reason Jared even knew Connor had pushed him in the first place was because Evan had told him afterwards. He’d scattered the second Connor had raised his voice. Evan wonders if Jared knows that he’s also kind of a dick.

“He apologised,” Evan says, deciding that accusing the only person who really tolerated his presence of being an asshole was probably a bad idea, even if it was true. “He seemed really nice.”

Jared stares blankly back at him, like Evan has said something so incomprehensible he needs time to fully process exactly what’s happening. Evan finds himself feeling weirdly defensive of Connor. Apologising was more than Jared had ever really bothered doing, even if Jared had also never physically hurt him the way Connor had. He’d still crossed lines.

“Do you want to be friends with him?” Jared asks.

“Kind of,” Evan says, and then, “yes.”

Jared makes an audible ‘huh’ sound, and Evan’s fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt and start fiddling with material, clumsily tugging at a loose thread. He knows Jared is judging him, but he also knows that Jared judges him for pretty much everything - he’s just kind of worried that maybe Jared won’t want to hang out with him now or something. Maybe Jared had a genuine reason to hate Connor all these years, and Evan’s just been a shitty friend, and never noticed, or asked. He doesn’t think so, thinks Jared would’ve taken any excuse to complain about Connor, even if it meant explaining whatever horrible thing Connor might have theoretically done to him.

“Your funeral,” Jared says at last. He doesn’t say it to Evan, really - says it to the wall behind him, and avoids his eyes. Evan knows Jared, has done for years, and he can tell that while Jared might be looking in his direction, he’s definitely not seeing him. Jared’s present but also not, distant enough for Evan to wonder if he hasn’t done something wrong. His anxiety normally makes him fully aware of his many and varied faux paus, but he can’t tell where he’s slipped up here. It’s worse, not knowing what he’s done wrong.

But Jared doesn’t really do feelings, and whatever the crease in his brow means Evan knows it’s not his place to ask, or to understand. He lets it go.

 

* * *

 

Evan’s not sure how you text someone like Connor. Evan’s not really sure how to text anyone other than his mom or Jared, but Connor seems a particularly intimidating person to contact. He tries not to think about it too much. Now that the reality of Connor’s offer is seeping in he’s starting to feel bad. Really bad. Not because Connor knows about his anxiety or anything - he’s actually pretty confident most people know there’s something wrong with him, even if they don’t label it, and he’s as okay with that as he’ll ever be. But this is different. Connor saw his therapy assignment, and when he thinks about it like that, remembers that there’s something really wrong with him, and all anyone can think to do to help him is make him write sad, faux-optimistic letters to himself. Well. It doesn’t feel great.

Connor’s messed up too. Evan knows that, but somehow it doesn’t make it any easier to reach out to him, now he’s home alone and has to actually say something to him. Connor seems like the kind of kid who has actual problems. Evan just has a stutter sometimes, and worries a lot. It feels pretty pathetic in comparison.

He gets his phone out anyway.

It’s not even sending the text in the first place that’s the concern - he doesn’t like writing emails or texts or whatever, but anything is better than face-to-face conversation. Sure, he runs the risk of obsessively over-editing whatever he’s typed out, but he can make actual corrections. He doesn’t just say whatever comes to mind in an attempt to fill the silence, like he does when he’s actually made to talk. Evan doesn’t respond well to that kind of pressure.

No, it’s the fact that it’s Connor he’s going to be messaging, and the fact that Connor knows, now, how messed up Evan is, or at least has an idea of it. He knows enough that it’s weird, and Evan doesn’t like it.

Very, very slowly, Evan enters Connor’s number into his contacts. It doesn’t mean anything, he thinks reassuringly to himself. It’s not a commitment. It doesn’t mean he has to say anything to him - he’s pretty sure Connor wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t bother, would just assume that Evan had realised he wasn’t worth his time, or something along those lines. The thought bothers him, though, because as much as Connor always gave off an air of indifference he’d seemed off, somehow, when he’d spoken to him at school. Vulnerable, maybe. It wasn’t a word he’d ever have thought to apply to him.

It’s enough of a push for Evan to type out a text, refusing to give himself time to think before sending it. He regretted it immediately, obviously, wished there was a way to go back in time and throw his phone out of the window, or flush it down the toilet, or just hide it somewhere until the impulse had passed.

**Evan [6:05 PM]:** hi, it’s evan? you gave me your number and it’s ok if you didn’t actually expect me to text you so don’t worry about texting back, and sorry if this is weird or something but i didn;t want you to think i didn’t want to talk or something, so. i’m texting you? this is weird right. sorry

Evan can barely stand to look at his phone. He stares at his desk for a minute, before he stands, mutely, and shoves his cell to the very back of his bedside cabinet drawer. He’ll pretend it never happened, and maybe Connor will be polite and won’t acknowledge the fact that Evan is perhaps the most pathetic person in the world.

Connor replies after a couple of minutes. Evan can tell because in his haste to bury the proof of his foolishness he forgot to put the phone on silent, so it dings, joyfully, slightly muted from its position tucked behind the collection of miscellaneous junk he’s managed to acquire over the years, but still very audible. He ignores it.

It dings again, and then again, a few seconds later.

He tries, briefly, to weigh up his options - the anxiety of waiting, of not-knowing, versus the very distinct possibility that Connor’s going to have realised what a loser (freak, he thinks, grimly,) he is. It doesn’t take long for him to decide that he’s probably better off with the devil he knows, in that whatever hurtful things Connor has to say to him can’t be any worse than the stuff he’ll invent if he refuses to give into his curiosity and at least look. A second wave of fear passes over him as his screen lights up in his hand, proudly declaring that he has ‘3 new messages’. He feels a little like he’s drowning in it.

**Connor [6:07 PM]:** hi

The first text says. Evan doesn’t let himself feel relieved.

**Connor [6:07 PM]:** i didnt think yd actually text

**Connor [6:08 PM]:** n dw its not weird dude u need to chill tf out

Evan stares at his phone a little longer, waiting for things to make sense again. Another text comes through, because that’s the kind of day he’s having.

**Connor [6:08 PM]:** r u ok? what do u want?

Connor’s still being nice. For all Evan had worried, the logical part of him had thought (known, really) he was probably not going to be pointlessly cruel to him, but still. There was no obligation to here - if he was trying to improve his image at school, or make it up to Evan, somehow, he’d already done enough. There was no reason to keep up the charade. Evan’s not sure how he feels about the situation, about the possibility that Connor might actually just want to talk to him.

Evan’s fingers shake a little as he taps out a response, his cast more inconvenient now than ever, bulky and uncomfortable. It feels like his arm’s a bit of a blunt instrument sometimes. It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to feel halfway happy with his response, but he’s tired, and stressed, and the whole situation is so bizarre he’s not sure he can even bring himself to panic over it the way he would normally.

**Evan [6:16 PM]:** sorry, i’m ok, i just don,t really know how you’re meant to like. talk to people. like i know you don’t want to be friends and that’s ok, i wouldn’t want to be friends with me etiher, but i thought it might be kind of weird to just start like, venting at you or something? so i figured i woudl text you first in case that was like, how you did things. sorry. i think like. acknowledging it all might actually have been weirder. i’ve made this weird. u don’t have to keep talking to me. it’s ok. sorry

Evan is not good at texting.

Connor, he learns, is not great either.

**Connor [6:18 PM]:** u say sorry too much

**Connor [6:18 PM]:** i wouldnt have bothered offering if i didnt mean it

**Connor [6:19 PM]:** i dont exactly go out of my way to be nice to people

**Connor [6:19 PM]** : so stop apologising

**Connor [6:19 PM]:** u can chill out. im not gonna fucking freak out at u bc u text kinda weird or whatever. if u want to talk we can talk

Where Evan’s texts read like awkward, long-winded rants, Connor’s are almost snippets of consciousness. There’s a flow to it all. He sends nearly everything he thinks. So does Evan, but it’s just. Different. Not necessarily in a bad way, Evan thinks, the corners of his mouth curling up just a little as he sits down and begins to painstakingly type out a reply.

 

* * *

 

Evan learns a surprising amount about Connor. For someone who gives off such a ‘mysterious loner’ vibe Connor has no shortage of things to talk about, and is bizarrely, refreshingly comfortable with talking about pretty much anything. He’s not exactly an open book, and there are times when Evan thinks he might be very subtly shutting down a line of conversation, but for the most part talking to him is easy. It’s bizarre.

Connor makes it clear early on that he doesn’t like Jared. Evan mentions talking to his ‘friend’ earlier, because Evan’s life isn’t very exciting, and being mocked by Jared is probably the most interesting thing that’s happened to him today aside from all the Connor stuff, and Connor makes an offhand comment about how he can’t believe Evan’s willing to put up with his shit. Apparently while he doesn’t outright hate Jared, he does think that he’s kind of a ‘massive fucking asshole’. Evan doesn’t provide Jared with much of a defense. He thinks Connor might find it vaguely amusing.

He learns that Connor’s favourite colour is yellow, and that he draws, even though he thinks he’s kind of terrible at it. He learns that his favourite class is English, and that he gets weirdly passionate about books once he gets started talking about them. He offers to lend some of his favourites to Evan, sounding weirdly enthusiastic about it, like he’s not even worried about Evan creasing the spines or accidentally spilling water on the pages and ruining them or something. Evan’s not sure how to express how touched he is by the thought that Connor would want to share something like that with him. They barely know each other, but Connor doesn’t seem to care, just seems excited that someone is actually interested in what he has to say. Evan wonders when he was last treated like a person.

They spend a long time asking each other appropriately generic things, before the two of them realise they’re both just taking questions off the same ‘200 questions to get to know someone’ page. Neither of them is really sure what they’re doing.

Eventually, of course, the anxiety thing comes up. Evan knew it was coming. He’d tried to ignore it, how the conversation got more and more personal, pretend that Connor was talking to him because he wanted to be friends, and not out of some misguided sense of obligation, or pity for a kid he knew was kind of messed up.

Evan braces himself for some kind of rejection, some thoughtless comment that will reveal that all of this talking they’ve done has really just been posturing, and that Connor just wants to make sure Evan’s not planning on immediately offing himself. He’s half-convinced that once they’ve talked about the big, looming thing that is his mental health, and Connor’s vague concerns over Evan’s safety or state of mind, or whatever it is that’s kept him texting Evan for the past hour and a half, are assuaged, he’s going to leave, and it’ll just be Evan again. Evan, and sometimes Jared. But usually not.

He can logic it out in his head as much as he wants, tell himself that there’s no reason why Connor would have kept up that kind of charade for an hour straight if he was really just doing this to make himself feel better, that people don’t offer to lend random nearly-strangers treasured copies of their favourite novels just because they’re mentally ill, but it doesn’t change the queasy, rolling dread he feels in his stomach. He’s scared.

Connor spends a long time typing, after Evan mentions the fact that he’s had anxiety for a good few years now, and that’s probably why he doesn’t have friends, because no one wants to spend time around someone who can’t order food from themselves, has panic attacks over class presentations, stutters and stumbles over his words and can barely hold a conversation with a stranger without feeling the need to run and hide. Well. The anxiety and his personality, Evan thinks. That bit’s not great either, doesn’t exactly endear him to people. His general being. His inability to relate to people, the compulsive lying… Evan thinks there are probably a lot of reasons he’s never really had any friends, actually.

**Connor [7:37 PM]:** idk what ur expecting me to say really

It’s a better response than Evan had anticipated, but it still doesn’t seem good. He’s used to his anxiety ruining things for him, and it doesn’t seem like whatever he was building with Connor is going to be any different. He wants to curl up into a ball in bed and not think for a good few hours. Days, maybe.

**Connor [7:37 PM]:** like. obviously it fucking sucks but its not like any of it matters

**Connor [7:38 PM]:** or not like it doesnt matter, but like. whyd it matter to literally anyone but you

**Connor [7:39 PM]:** who cares if u dont talk sometimes or need a break from fucking. whatever. are u gonna ruin ur friends reputations bc u cant do a class presentation? its bullshit

**Connor [7:39 PM]:** literally who cares. its not like yr hurting anybody. it hasnt bothered me so far so

**Connor [7:40 PM]:** maybe youve just never had very good friends

Evan is… sort of getting used to being surprised by Connor. He’s not kind exactly, at least not in the traditional sense, but he’s not mean either. More than anything it feels like he just doesn’t have a filter - that everything he thinks, he says or does, no preparation required. Connor’s all action. When he says something nice, or reassuring, he says it fast enough that even Evan can’t convince himself it was planned. It feels genuine.

Evan can almost convince himself everyone’s got it wrong, that Connor’s not a bad person. That maybe he’s just lonely.

**Connor [7:42 PM]:** pluuuuuus like. im super fucked up too

**Connor [7:42 PM]:** not in the same way u are but just like. mentally

**Connor [7:42 PM]:** not that ur super fucked up. a little bit maybe. but just. u know. mental health.

**Connor [7:43 PM]:** its bullshit. is the thing. it fucking sucks

Evan wonders, briefly, what exactly is wrong with Connor. He knows he has anger problems - the whole school does, and Evan’s seen him called out of class enough now that he knows he has them badly, too - but he doesn’t know if there’s more to it. It wouldn’t surprise him. He almost seems too willing to talk about mental health stuff, like he’s done this all a thousand times before. Like it’s routine.

Maybe they’ll talk about it sometime.

Evan types out a response, and decides he’s not going to push it. He’s not sure he would’ve had the nerve to anyway.

**Evan [7:44 PM]:** it’s kind of bullshit.

Connor doesn’t say anything at all for a minute, and Evan wonders, again, if he might’ve crossed a line somehow. It’s less of a concern than it usually is, in the sense that Evan’s said a lot today he kind of thought would freak Connor out, or annoy him, or upset him. None of it has, or none of it has done enough that Connor’s commented on it. He can almost let himself relax. Not entirely, but almost.

**Connor [7:46 PM]:** youre alright, hansen

Evan grins at his phone, and then immediately stops grinning, because it’s kind of embarrassing to be that pleased about something that isn’t really a compliment - it’s just been a while since he’s felt like someone actually wanted his company. Jared puts up with him, but that’s about all. Anytime Evan starts to feel like maybe they’re actual friends, instead of just fake ones, Jared will happily remind him, like clockwork, that no, he doesn’t really want to be spending any of his time with Evan. That he’s only doing it because he absolutely has to.

Connor might not be his friend, but he’s being nice to him, and that’s more than Jared’s tried to do for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'd by @sylphoflight, who i don't even know how to link to. it's been a long time & i have no idea what i'm doing. jared reads as kind of an asshole. i promise it's not a permanent thing. connor reads as Actually Quite Nice. also... probably not a permanent thing. we'll see how it goes


	2. those who never speak when spoken to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw's in the chapter end notes

He isn’t been expecting things at school to change. Evan’s never been an optimist, really - it’s always been easier to deal with things if he anticipates the worst, because at least then he’s prepared for whatever life’s going to throw at him, instead of caught off guard. Still, seeing the way Connor so obviously ignores him as he walks by hurts a little. He could at least acknowledge Evan’s presence or something. He might be kind of a pariah at school, but surely eye contact isn’t too much to ask for?

Though, having said that, Evan isn’t entirely sure how he would cope with Connor actually looking at him. He’d probably just end up making a fool out of himself, acting like a one-off conversation via text somehow makes them friends, and then Connor would laugh at him, and the rest of the student body would find out just how pathetically lonely he really is, and he’d end up missing his first class just so he can sit alone in a toilet somewhere and try not to have a breakdown. So. Maybe it’s for the best.

“And here I thought you and Murphy were besties now,” Jared remarks from somewhere behind him, clearly amused.

Jared has an incredible knack for being in the right place at the right time, in the sense that he’s always there when Evan really doesn’t need him to be. It’s not that he doesn’t want Jared around so much as it’s the fact that he never really stops pushing. Everything’s a joke to him, and if it isn’t he’ll find a way to make it one.

“We spoke, like, once, Jared.”

Undeterred, as always, Jared leans against the locker next to Evan’s, raising his eyebrows expectantly at him.

“It’s not - there’s no story there,” Evan continues, eager to fill the silence and shut down whatever inane joke Jared was about to make at Evan’s expense, “we spoke for like an hour, and then I went to bed. It’s not important.”

“Okay,” Jared responds smoothly. Evan’s certain he doesn’t believe him.

“I mean it, Jared.”

“Okay! Okay. I’m just saying, you seemed awful excited to be making a new friend yesterday. What changed? You realise Murphy’s just as fucked up as all the stories claim he is? ‘Cause I could’ve told you that. He’s not worth the time.”

It’s exactly what he was expecting to hear. He’s never understood why Jared has to be like this, has to be so awful to everyone, all the time. He’s not even a bad person. He’s funny, interesting and likeable, understanding and sometimes even kind, when he wants to be. But then he says these, these things, and Evan just doesn’t get it. It doesn’t make sense to him. Jared doesn’t need to put on the weird facade of superiority that he does, he’s not like Evan, doesn’t need to fake anything. He has so much going for him. He never used to be like it. Evan doesn’t know when he changed, or why.

“Yeah, well, you’ve made it quite clear that it’s not like I have any other friends,” Evan says, surprised at just how bitter he sounds.

Jared frowns at this, but apparently doesn’t disagree enough to voice a rebuttal. Evan shifts his glance back to his locker, flicking idly through his folders and pulling out everything he needs for his first few periods. He frowns as he runs a finger over an air bubble on the spine of his bio textbook. Jared stays silent.

It’s frustrating. He almost wants to keep talking, to tell Jared, to his face, that the way he treats other people, treats Evan, isn’t cool. Isn’t okay. That he doesn’t need to keep doing this. He’s not even sure what Jared’s trying to protect himself from. Despite everything Jared’s said about his relationship with Evan, he still thinks of him as a friend, even if Jared doesn’t feel the same way. He doesn’t need to keep making digs at him, pushing him away. There’s no reason for it, but Evan needs there to be one, because the alternative is that that’s… just what Jared is like. That maybe Jared really doesn’t want to be friends with him.

Jared still hasn’t said anything. Normally that’d be enough to make Evan apologise for his outburst. Now he’s… not sure he wants to. It’s not like Jared should even be offended, or upset, or whatever emotion it is that’s made him decide to give Evan the silent treatment. He’s the one who’s always saying that he only puts up with Evan to get his car insurance money. If Jared’s so insistent that they aren’t friends maybe he shouldn’t keep trying to pretend otherwise. He closes his locker and turns to look at Jared, who refuses to meet his eyes.

Evan walks away.

He’ll regret it later, probably end up crying about it when the anger that’s bubbling in his chest cools, evens out, shrivels up and dies and leaves him empty again. Right now, though, he feels like Jared might deserve this.

It’s weird, the idea of going to English by himself. Of having any of his classes without Jared, really - they don’t share all of them, of course, but enough that he knows he’s going to miss his presence, on the off chance this is a permanent thing. He’s not sure it will be - Jared isn’t really close to anyone else in their school, even if he supposedly has friends outside of it, so Evan knows he’s going to be feeling the loss of Evan’s company, even if he would never admit it. He hopes it’ll be enough to prompt him into taking a long, hard look at their relationship. It probably won’t.

Evan knows, realistically, that it’s partially his own fault. He’s too non-confrontational to ever really speak up when Jared says something out of order, so he can’t entirely blame him for continuing the trend. Still, though.

It’s thoughts like these that occupy him through his lessons, keep him horribly distracted in class, but still not distracted enough that he’s not worried about the fact that he’s distracted. What happens if a teacher asks him a question? Evan’s only able to follow the bare bones of the talks he’s being given, hardly paying enough attention to actually engage with the lessons. It’s awful. He hates it.

No one asks him anything, of course. His teachers rarely try to engage him. Dragging an answer out of Evan is always a task, and in a way he’s glad for it - it means most people don’t bother. Sometimes, of course, they’ll give a token attempt, reassuring him that he knows the answer, and that it doesn’t matter if he’s wrong, that it’s all a learning experience, but it’s only gotten more uncommon as the years have gone on. That even his teachers have kind of given up on him would be upsetting, if he wasn’t so grateful he managed to avoid their attention so frequently as a result.

 

* * *

 

In the end Jared doesn’t apologise, but he does come and sit with him at lunch, starts talking about some World of Warcraft raid he pulled off with his friends and tries to pretend nothing has changed. Evan’s not sure if he’s grateful for it or frustrated. Sure, he’d have had to have spent his lunch break in a toilet stall or something if Jared had kept sulking - he’d intended to wait another 5 minutes or so before calling it quits and leaving the cafeteria - but at least that way it would’ve felt like he cared. Like what Evan had said had mattered, instead of just being another thing for him to tuck away politely and ignore. Evan’s said enough though, for today. He’s not going to risk anything more by pushing his luck, especially as Connor’s continued to deliberately avoid him as the day’s gone on. Jared might be an asshole, but he’s company, and Evan doesn’t have any other options.

It’s about halfway through their hour-long lunch break that Evan realises something is about to go very, very wrong. He’s almost tempted to leave, when he starts hearing the raised voices, but Jared latches onto his arm with a vice like grip, and that’s that.

It’s Connor, because of course it is. Connor and someone Evan’s not sure he recognises - he thinks it’s a guy in their year, with some kind of generic, jock-like name. Chad, maybe? It’s probably not Chad. That’s probably a joke Jared made at some point that got lodged in his brain, except now he can’t look at the guy and not think Chad, so.

He can vaguely make out something about lunch, and if he cranes his neck he can just about make out a tray on the floor, some food scattered across the glossy linoleum. He isn’t sure whose it is, whether Connor’s the victim or the assailant. He’s not sure it matters, either, when he sees Connor take a swing at the other guy, clocking him around the nose, before he turns and runs.

There’s some yelling, and a bit of a scuffle as the crowd starts to part around Connor, before the guy (Chad, Evan says internally, before reminding himself that no, that’s… really not his name,) starts to follow, not moving quite as quickly as Connor, with his gangly frame, but fast enough that Evan wonders if Connor’s going to be okay. Not-Chad yells something about beating the shit out of him.

Evan accidentally meets Connor’s eyes as he runs past them, immediately regretting it because Connor clearly doesn’t want anything to do with him in school, even if he might outside of it. The look he gets back is withering. Evan tries not to flinch away from it.

A beat, and then Jared looks at Evan and grins.

“So,” he begins.

“We’re not talking about it, Jared,” Evan says, in lieu of a proper response. He’d thought their earlier sort-of argument would’ve been enough to deter him from talking about the whole Connor thing, but apparently the emerging drama was exciting enough that he’d already forgotten they’d been fighting. Evan’s more irritated by it than he’d expected to be. It’s like he’s hardly a blip on Jared’s radar, like it doesn’t even bother him that Evan could’ve decided enough was enough, that this could have been the end of their years-long semi-friendship.

“You sure? I’m more than happy to listen to you remind me just how right I am, as ever.”

Evan continues eating.

“I mean, you saw that, right? That whole thing? Connor punching that guy?”

“I saw it,” Evan replies, trying for monotony and missing it by a good yard.

“So you agree with me. This, this whole thing you’re doing with him, whatever it is - it’s a bad idea. You’re gonna get fucked over somehow. How many people do you know who’ve had a positive relationship with the guy? Hell, even his own sister fucking hates him.”

“Look, Jared, I appreciate this, the, the ‘concern’, or whatever this is meant to be, but I don’t need you to baby me. And he’s ignoring me now, so. You can stop it.”

Jared shrugs, taking a bite of his sandwich and knocking his shoulder gently against Evan. If he were a better friend Evan might think he was actually trying to comfort him. Evan’s stopped assuming Jared does anything for anyone but himself now, though.

“So. Pizza at yours later?” he asks. It’s probably as much of an apology as Evan’s going to get from him.

“Sure.” It’s not exactly an enthusiastic reply, he knows, but Evan’s tired. He wants things to change. It doesn’t feel like anything ever does.

Jared goes back to talking about video games, and Evan lets himself zone out a little. It’s not like he has anything to offer in terms of an opinion - Evan’s only ever really played video games when he’s been round Jared’s house, and those invitations haven’t exactly been flooding in. He can’t afford a console of his own, and his laptop is barely functional, could hardly be expected to run a game, no matter how low the quality. He could probably get a shitty second-hand DS or something, if he really wanted to, but he doesn’t need it, and Evan doesn’t like asking for things he doesn’t need, anymore.

He’s not ashamed of being poor, really. He just worries. Worries about his mom, of course, and how she’s dealing with it, especially with the looming expectation of a college education, now. Worries about whether he should fake being better, so she can stop worrying about how they’re going to afford all of the medication he needs just to function, let alone function normally. Worries about how other people will think of him, for not having money, worries whether it plays into Jared’s treatment of him, somehow. It doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t. Jared’s not like that. It worries him regardless.

It’s strange, how he can know something, be so close to certain, and still worry. His mind is a cruel thing, indifferent to all of the logical arguments he presents it. It’s insidious.

It takes him a minute to realise he’s staring, and then a beat longer to realise he’s staring at Zoe. He’d be embarrassed about it, but he’s pretty sure Jared hasn’t noticed, and it wasn’t exactly intentional. Habit, maybe.

She’s talking to the people who’d been backing up the guy Connor punched, looking angrier with every passing second. He can’t tell if she’s angry at them or her brother, but by the way her frown creases her face she’s really, really not pleased. She raises her hands to her face like she can wipe away the irritation, shed it like a mask, and when she looks up she seems calmer, settled, maybe. She nods her head at something one of the bigger guys says, raises a hand and runs it through her hair, before she turns and heads back to the group of people Evan recognises as her friends.

Connor does that too, he thinks idly. The hair thing.

 

* * *

 

When Evan next sees Connor, he has the beginnings of what looks like a black eye.

It’s the end of the school day. After the incident at lunch Connor had kind of disappeared - presumably to the Principal’s office, and/or to see the school nurse. Jared had continued making comments about him for the last half an hour of lunch, until he realised Evan had stopped listening after the first few. He’d found the best way to get Jared to stop talking about something was to just pretend you didn’t care about whatever it was he was saying. His need for attention tended to outweigh whatever it was that made him constantly poke fun at everyone around him, enough that so long as Evan was feeling well enough to passably fake disinterest he could trick him into dropping the subject.

He’s going to ignore him again, Evan knows. He’s not sure if it means they won’t be talking at all, or if he’s still allowed to text Connor, or what this means for them. He’s not sure he’ll be able to work up the courage to ask, either, so it’s a moot point. If Connor doesn’t make some sort of indication that he wants to keep talking Evan’s not going to push him. He doesn’t do pushing. Evan is the embodiment of passivity, of existing and letting things happen around him, but never engaging with them. Engaging means putting yourself directly in the line of fire, and Evan’s not a fool. He knows no good ever comes of that.

Evan’s expecting Connor to just breeze past him, disappear into the afternoon like a haze. The past day or so’s felt kind of hazy. Like a mirage, something that almost looks real, but isn’t. Just a particularly convincing fake.

He doesn’t. He pauses when he reaches Evan, in fact, and up close Evan can see the way the bruise is beginning to blossom, ugly, around his left eye. If Connor notices his staring he doesn’t say anything about it, though his mouth quirks down a little. Evan averts his gaze. Connor, from what he can tell, is in some kind of a mood. He doesn’t think it’s a good one.

Connor drops his bag to his feet, hands going slack like he doesn’t even have the energy to let it down gently. He folds his legs under himself, all sharp edges, and Evan’s struck briefly by the thought that he’s kind of like an origami bird. A swan maybe. Pointed, straight lines, but still oddly graceful. It’s a nice idea.

Evan watches him rifle through his bag, slowly, like he’s struggling to do it, somehow, before he pulls out a beaten, worn copy of a book Evan doesn’t think he’s ever seen before. He recognises it, though. The Little Prince. It’s one of the books Connor had mentioned last night, from his list. He’d written the list a while ago, he’d said, some nonsense for a school yearbook no one bothered reading. Said that it’d grown, since, but that the original ten were a good place to start.

Evan’s not sure if he’s meant to say something. Connor seems really, really tired. He’s moving slowly, not with the natural grace he usually does, but like everything he’s doing is taking him double the effort it should. Evan feels like he should do something to help, but what can he do? There’s nothing he can say that will reinvigorate Connor, make up for the shitty day he’s clearly had. So he just stays quiet, and watches, and waits.

Connor stands jerkily, or as jerkily as someone possibly can while still appearing as though they’re moving through treacle instead of air. He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, and instead just pushes the book, gently, into Evan’s hands. Evan stares at him for a minute, bewildered, before carefully tucking it against his chest.

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, because even if they aren’t friends he has to say something. Has to acknowledge that Connor is struggling somehow, the same way he’d done for Evan.

“Fucking peachy,” he replies, slowly, clearly annoyed. “Take a picture.”

The disparity between his actions and his tone of voice grates on Evan, sends a weird, bug-like crawling feeling down his spine. The skin on his arms feels too tight. He’s kind of dizzy. He’s scared, he realises. This is the Connor that pushed him, called him a freak. This is the Connor Evan doesn’t like, but - they’re the same person, he thinks. They’re the same person.

It shouldn’t be a revelation.

Connor felt - he’d seemed so different when they were texting, when, moments ago, he’d been so gentle, pressing his book, one of his favourite books, his prized copy, into Evan’s arms. He doesn’t know what to think, and he can feel himself start to panic, can feel the way the walls of the corridor they’re in start to rise up around him, his head clouding as his breathing shallows. He needs to sit down, needs to get out, needs to be - not here. Not with Connor.

Connor, to his credit, seems to notice this. He doesn’t seem happy about it, either, glowering off into the middle distance as he closes his bag. At least Connor’s not looking at him, Evan thinks.

He turns to leave. Evan almost wishes he had the breath to call out to him, to give him back his book, to make him take it away and stop giving him all these weird, horrible mixed signals. He doesn’t know if he’s meant to be scared of Connor, or want to be his friend, or, or what. He doesn’t know what Connor wants from him. He doesn’t understand it, and he hates it.

Everything has suddenly become so difficult to bear, and it’s Connor’s fault. Connor’s the reason he’s fighting with Jared on and off now, the reason he’s suddenly wondering if he maybe deserves better from his only friend, even though he’d put up with the status quo for years. It’s not fair. Connor doesn’t even like him, so why should his opinion matter. Why does any of what Connor’s doing matter? So what if he’d seemed like he actually cared - he’s made it clear enough now that it was a one off event.

Except he’s still holding Connor’s favourite book in his hands. He doesn’t know what to think anymore.

Evan thinks he hears Connor mutter ‘freak’ under his breath as he walks away. He thinks he was meant to hear it.

 

* * *

 

Jared texts him, and after about 10 minutes, once he’s managed to wring a reply out of him, comes and sits next to Evan on the floor of the computer room. Evan’s not sure either of them are meant to be in here now, after school hours, but it’s not like anyone’s going to bother to kick them out. He stares at the carpet and pretends he can find patterns in it, traces lines and swirls with his eyes and tries desperately to force them to latch onto something, focus on anything but what his body is doing, how he’s feeling. He can’t. He just sees dust and weird patches of grey that might be gum, worn down into the fabric.

Jared hasn’t said anything yet, and Evan knows that he’s not going to. For all his flaws he’s also always been pretty good at dealing with Evan, when he’s having a bad time.

He’s having a really bad time, actually, now that he thinks about it. He immediately tries to stop thinking about it, and it doesn’t work, and fuck, he can feel himself going again, feel the way the floor drops out from beneath him and his whole chest starts to seize up and his vision darkens, and -

Jared puts a hand on his shoulder and then leans against him, side pressed gently enough against Evan’s that it doesn’t feel threatening, or overwhelming. He’s just… very much there.

It’s enough to ground Evan for a second, for him to reach out and grab ahold of Jared’s hand unthinkingly. He’s too wrapped up in what his mind’s doing to him right now to worry about how it might look, or how Jared might feel about it - he just needs to stop feeling like he’s free falling, like the whole world hasn’t just collapsed underneath him.

It reminds him of a video he saw once, people in an elevator watching in horror as the floor panels begin to fall away into infinity. An illusion, of course, a practical joke. This feels very much the same.

Jared starts talking. Not at Evan, not like he’s trying to force a conversation or anything, but just rambling, a stream of consciousness that Evan’s sure is mostly, if not entirely nonsensical. He’s just hearing noise, though, can’t comprehend the sound Jared’s making as speech, so who’s to say?

They stay like that for a while, Evan staring empty-gazed at their hands, clasped together over Jared’s knee. Like this he can almost pretend Jared cares about his well being.  
He tightens his grip, just a little, watches Jared shift to look at their hands, and then up at Evan.

Gradually, still mostly-numb, Evan comes to realise that Jared’s stopped talking. He starts to notice other things, impossibly slowly. He can feel wetness on his cheeks. He started crying, at some point. He thinks he’s stopped now, but he can’t be sure. He raises his free hand to wipe half-heartedly at his eyes. His chest still feels tight, and his lungs burn, like he’s pushed himself just a little too far. He’s shaking. It’s not much, but he can see it now his vision has levelled out. A faint tremor.

“Are you okay?” Jared asks, quietly, like he’s not sure he should be. “Do you want me to take you home?”

Jared’s good at this part, when he wants to be - at sounding like he gets it, and that it doesn’t bother him. Like he just wants to help. It’s a charade, Evan’s sure, because he sees the way Jared looks at him sometimes, after he’s had an attack, but a convincing one. He lets himself believe it’s real, just this once.

He goes to talk, and his throat seizes up in protest. It’s almost enough to bring him to tears again.

Jared doesn’t need to ask. He tugs, gently, on Evan’s hand, moving to stand. Evan follows.

He hardly registers where they’re going, just lets Jared pull him along, and then push him towards the passenger side of his car.

Jared’s quiet as he maneuvers the Ford out of the school parking lot. Evan fiddles with the volume knob of the radio even though it’s off. Maybe he’s meant to thank Jared, for doing this, putting up with Evan’s bullshit, but he feel wrung out, hollow, and speaking seems like a great deal of effort. Jared doesn’t bother trying to fill the silence either.

The aftermath’s almost the worst part of a panic attack, Evan thinks. He can suddenly, with startling clarity, recognise all the ways in which he’s overreacted. He can see all the ways he’s embarrassed himself. If it wasn’t such a draining experience he’d probably be upset about it, but he can’t muster the energy to care. He will later.

He’s not sure what Jared’s planning on doing with him. His mom won’t be home until late, again, and he knows from experience that Jared doesn’t usually like to leave him alone after an episode like the one he’d just had, but things with Jared are weird, now. He’s made them weird.

He's starting to feel a little more like himself by the time they reach his house, though his hands still shake as he reaches to unbuckle his seatbelt. Jared watches him carefully, like he's afraid Evan's on the verge of breaking. Like he’s something fragile.

“I’m okay,” he tells Jared, and he’s immediately struck by how rough his voice sounds, how much talking takes out of him.

Jared makes a face like he’s not quite sure he agrees, but doesn’t call Evan out on it. He just lets himself out of the car, and waits patiently for Evan to start moving.

“I did say we’d get pizza,” Jared says, like Evan had just forgotten, and hadn’t been half-convinced Jared had already rescinded his offer. “I’ll even call the place for you. You sound like shit. You’d terrify them.”

Even now, when he’s making a dig at Evan, he sounds hesitant. Evan wants to reassure him that he really is okay, that he’ll be fine and that Jared can stop treating him like a child, but he’s not sure he wants Jared to drop the niceties. Being babied feels like the lesser of two evils.

“Okay,” he replies, because he’s not sure what else there is to be said.

Jared nods like nothing is wrong, and takes Evan’s keys from him when he realises he can’t keep his hands steady enough to get them in the lock.

He wants to apologise.

His anxiety feels like such an ugly, shameful thing. He can joke about it, occasionally, can laugh off his stammer and repetitive speech and the way he lies sometimes, just because he isn’t sure what else to say, but when it comes down to it he really, really isn’t okay with it, with the way he is. He hates it.

It feels overwhelmingly unfair.

Jared bumps the door open with his hip, as is the norm for him, because he loves to make a performance of the most ridiculous things sometimes. It looks more awkward than usual, Evan thinks, though maybe he’s just projecting.

Evan heads straight to the couch, shuffles his shoes off and immediately takes a seat, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of him, the ringed stains that pattern the surface. Neither he nor his mom have ever been very good at using coasters. He’s not even sure if they have any any more, or if the years of wear took their toll on them without him ever noticing. It’s a weirdly sobering thought, that this kind of minute, domestic change might have passed over his head completely. He’s not sure when he last spent a proper evening with his mom, when they last talked about anything other than his mental health, or his future, or her job.

“What do you want?” Jared calls from the kitchen, and then, when Evan doesn’t immediately reply, from the doorway leading into the living room.

“Uh, just a margherita,” Evan says, after a pause that probably lasts far too long to sound natural. Jared shoots him a thumbs up and then disappears again.

It’s probably too early to be ordering dinner, really, but it seems like Jared just wants to feel like he’s helping, and Evan’s not sure he’d even have bothered eating at all if Jared hadn’t been the one ordering.

He hears Jared talking for a while, slightly muffled through the wall. He sounds normal, easy, speaking to a stranger over the phone like it isn’t even a bother. Evan wishes he could relate. It only takes a couple of minutes before Jared’s back, flopping down next to him and flipping the TV onto something Evan vaguely recognises as one of the reality shows he enjoys so much. He can tell that Jared’s keeping an eye on him.

“I’m okay now, really,” he says, quietly, trying not to talk too loudly in case Jared’s actually paying attention to what’s happening on the TV. “Um. I appreciate it.”

“If you say so,” Jared replies, nonchalantly, “and it’s fine. Not the first time. Probably not the last.”

It’s not meant as an insult, Evan reminds himself. It’s not.

“What are we watching, exactly?” he asks, trying to lighten the conversation, convince Jared he really is okay, or at least stable enough that he doesn’t feel like he’s treading water just to stay afloat.

“Oh!” Jared starts, before launching into an explanation Evan can’t entirely follow. He thinks it’s some kind of dating thing, but it’s all a bit weird. He’s just glad Jared’s sounding a little more comfortable again.

Jared ends up leaving after they’ve eaten, but not before shooting Evan a look and reminding him that if he actually needs Jared he has his number. It sounds like Jared doesn’t actually want or expect Evan to ever bother reaching out to him, beyond the occasional friendly text they sometimes send each others way, but it’s a nice gesture.

Evan smiles, blandly, and thanks him. He thanks him again, a second time, more quietly, when he realises he still sounds kind of upset. Jared doesn’t deserve this right now, after he’d looked after Evan like he had done. It’s not fair to keep pressing the issue.

Jared nods politely, and drives away. Evan closes the front door, goes upstairs to his room, and lies down in his bed.

The house is silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw's: evan has a panic attack. it's not particularly graphic, and the focus is more on the aftermath, but it does happen, following connor's conversation with evan
> 
> i've already finished chapter 3 so. an early update. beta'd by @sylphoflight again. both my beta and i are british - if any american folks notice something off abt my phrasing etc please do feel free to pm me! neither of us can catch everything
> 
> no one is nice. nothing good ever lasts. i love u


	3. hard limits fade into memory

Evan can’t sleep. He’s been trying to for the past few hours, and is finally beginning to accept that it’s just not going to happen. His brain is rebelling against him, won’t stop working itself into a frenzy over nothing at all. It’s exhausting, but not in the sense that it’s going to tire him out enough to sleep. He gets out of bed. There’s no point in spending any longer thinking about it. He’s going to make a cup of tea, and he’s going to try to think about something stupid, and distracting, and entirely unrelated to his own life. He needs an escape.

The process of making tea isn’t calming, exactly, but doing something with his hands helps. He’d read something about a warm drink mimicking human contact, before, and he’s pretty sure that’s at least part of it. It’s kind of sad.

He heads back upstairs slowly, being far more careful with the drink than is probably necessary, given that he’s already had about half of it and there’s pretty much no chance he’s going to spill it now. He settles it on his bedside cabinet, (no coaster, he registers, subconsciously,) and moves to pick up his backpack. He may as well _look_ at his schoolwork, he figures, even if he’s not exactly in the mood to do any of it. Failing that he could at least try to work on an idea for one the scholarship things his mom’s been trying to foist upon him. Or think about writing one of his letters. The thought of that leaves him feeling a little queasy, though.

It’s only when he’s already emptied the bag of most of its contents that he realises he’s brought Connor’s book home with him. He’d hardly had time to think when it’d been given to him - he’d thought he might have put it in his locker, but apparently in his panic he’d just shoved it to the bottom of his rucksack. He really, really hopes he’s not damaged it somehow. It had looked a little beaten up to begin with, but he really didn’t want to be the guy who’d further ruined Connor Murphy’s favourite book. One of his favourites. He’s not sure if the list had been ranked.

He doesn’t even want the thing anymore. Or he does, kind of, but...not like this? Evan’s not sure what he wants. The nice Connor, maybe, the one who apologised and offered to talk to him and wanted to share his favourite books with Evan. The real one is harder to deal with.

It’s mean of him to think like that. It’s horribly unfair, really, especially because he knows that Connor has problems, actual mental health problems, and that while they might not excuse everything he does they do kind of explain it. Some of it, at least. Connor Murphy is probably just as wrapped up in his own issues as Evan is. People probably wished they could have an Evan that didn’t come with anxiety too.

He needs to get over himself, he thinks. Needs to stop treating Connor like anything but a person, albeit one who’s dealing with a lot of shit. He’d tried to, before, and when Connor was being friendly it had seemed so easy. He’s starting to realise now that it won’t be. Can’t be. Connor’s not going to suddenly stop being angry, or intimidating, or impulsive, just because Evan’s spoken to him once or twice. Having a friend isn’t going to fix him. It probably won’t even help him, really.

But Connor doesn’t have anyone else. When he’d given Evan his number that had been entirely for Evan’s benefit, because however minute his concerns Connor _had_ been concerned about him. Someone he hardly even knew.

Maybe they can’t be friends at school, maybe they can’t even be proper friends, ones who talk more than once a week, once a month, but it seems wrong, somehow, to give up entirely on Connor. Maybe he just had a really shitty day. Maybe if they just stick to texting they can work something out, Evan can help him, support him, somehow. He has to try.

It’s not a straightforward decision, to move past the fact that Connor’s already caused him one panic attack, a day after he’d tried to reach out to him, insulted him to his face after Evan actually thought they might have reached some kind of understanding. It was awful. It still feels kind of awful - the memory’s hardly faded. Evan’s hardly forgiven him for it. But it’s a decision he makes regardless.

So Evan picks up the book, and he starts to read.

It’s not what he was expecting. He finds himself surprisingly enamoured with the book, with the tiny glimpse it gives him into Connor’s psyche. A reminder that Evan really doesn’t know him at all.

He considers texting Connor, briefly, extending an olive branch to reassure him that despite whatever it was that happened at school he still hasn’t entirely given up on their… whatever it was. It seems strangely intimate though, the idea of confessing to Connor that he’d been reading his favourite book late into the evening, that he’d felt it an important enough event he should confide in him. He’ll see how Connor is at school, maybe, try and gauge his willingness to talk to Evan in public, whether he’ll still be against it. He can text him after that, then, if things haven’t changed.

The book’s clearly been well-loved. It’s faded, dog-eared and creased, and Evan’s pretty sure there’s a burn mark on one of the pages, along with a fair few stains from what looks like coffee. It’s almost nice, visible proof that Connor is, in fact, capable of caring about things. It’s very much a contrast to the persona he displays in school.

Evan wonders when that happened. Whether Connor’s always been the way he is now, or if he used to be like everyone else when he was a child. If he ever got a proper childhood, or if he was like Evan, and lost most of it to his problems, mental health related or otherwise. Evan’s anxiety had been a staple for most of his life, but it had only worsened after his dad had left. He wonders, sometimes, if it would’ve ever gotten to the point it had done if he’d stayed. But then he remembers the way his mom looked sometimes, when his dad had still been around, clear in his mind even after all the years that had passed since, and he thinks he’d probably be worse.

He tucks the book back into his backpack, once he’s finished reading it, far more careful than he’d been with it last time. He’ll give it back to him tomorrow. Probably. Even if Connor doesn’t want to talk to him at school it’s not like he can just leave the book somewhere for him. He supposes he could always ask Zoe to pass it on, but she and Connor don’t seem to have a particularly close relationship. Or a particularly good one. It’s fine. Evan will figure it out.

He doesn’t hear his mom get home, already fast asleep by then.

He hadn’t expected to, but it still stings, as he drifts off, the thought that she never seems to be there. Be there for him. She’d hve been thrilled to find out he was talking to someone new, someone other than Jared, but the bitterness in Evan’s gut rears its ugly head, spitting, and he decides he’s not going to tell her. Not yet, at least.

It’s not like she’ll be around to hear it from him anyway.

 

* * *

 

Jared picks Evan up in the morning. It’s not their usual routine - Evan will walk, more often than not, (it’s cheaper, and the bus makes him feel like he’s going to have run out of oxygen by the time he walks through the school doors,) but he’s grateful for it. Jared seems far more cheerful than he had been the day before, and it’s comforting, like they’re settling back into a routine Evan can recognise.

“Oh my god, Jared, what is this?” he asks, amused, as Jared belts along to whatever it is he’s playing on the stereo, barely acknowledging that Evan’s gotten into the car.

Jared locks eyes with Evan, mock-affronted but still grinning, and informs him that it’s from a musical. He doesn’t specify which, and Evan doesn’t ask. Jared’s been getting weirdly into musicals, lately, and Evan’s still not sure if it’s the kind of thing he should be asking about. It always seemed like the kind of interest Jared would’ve been mocking other people for, not the one he’d be indulging in, and he’s worried that if he actually gets Jared talking about it for too long he’ll realise the same, and try to shut down the whole conversation.

He gets like that, sometimes, when he realises that he’s being ‘uncool’. It’s off-putting. It’s doesn’t fit properly with Evan’s image of Jared, like a puzzle piece that’s been just a little too bashed up, that’s stopped making sense in context, stopped making sense in general. He doesn’t know why Jared seems to think he’ll care. Evan’s biggest interest is botany. Which, you know. Kind of niche. He’s not exactly in a position to judge.

Plus he sounds appalling, and it’s hilarious, and Evan doesn’t want to disturb his performance too much. Jared’s never been a singer.

“Have you thought about joining the school production?” he asks, when the track ends, before Jared has a chance to start up again.

Evan’s genuinely interested. The idea of Jared performing in a musical (or, more likely, and less entertaining-sounding, doing tech work for a musical,) is a strangely endearing one.

“Nah,” Jared replies easily. Evan can tell he’s kind of pleased by the suggestion, though, might even be considering it, given the half-smile he’s wearing.

“For real, like. We all know you can’t exactly sing,” Evan begins, grinning as Jared punches his shoulder, eyes never leaving the road, “but you could do tech work, or like… stage manager stuff? I don’t really know what you do for musicals. I mean maybe they’ll be so low on volunteers they’ll even let you deafen the audience members for a song or two.”

Jared snorts and starts singing again, a half-hearted rebellion.

“Honestly though dude, you should go for it,” Evan continues, quieter now, hoping Jared can pick up on the fact that he’s being quite serious, “if you want to. Like. You can always drop out, if you end up hating it. No pressure.”

Jared nods, and then, as the song hits a lull, replies. “Yeah, maybe.”

Evan smiles. Things aren’t okay, exactly, but it feels like maybe they will be, sometime in the not-too-distant-future. They’re both pretty alright at the whole friend thing, when they actually try.

They get to school probably earlier than they need to, and end up loitering in the computer room while Jared messes around on a word document.

“This is another one of those SCP thingies, right?”

“...Thingies,” Jared murmurs under his breath, amused, “and yeah. You wanna help?”

Evan really doesn’t think he _can_ help, but the offer’s a nice one. He ends up hovering awkwardly over Jared’s shoulder, making vague comments every now and again. He’s mainly just complementing Jared’s work, because he’s never been the creative type, at least with stuff like this, and he’d feel weird offering an actual critique. He’s happy to point out the occasional grammar mistake though, and acting as a sounding board for Jared is surprisingly good fun. He’s missed hanging out with him, or he’s missed hanging out with him and it not feeling forced. This is actually enjoyable, and Evan feels a pang of disappointment when the bell rings.

“Oh shit,” Jared starts, rapid-fire saving his work and shutting down the computer, throwing his bag over his shoulder and heading towards his locker, “I’ve gotta grab my stuff. I’ll see you at lunch?”

Evan nods even though Jared’s already halfway out of the room, and definitely won’t see it.

Maybe Jared really was feeling bad about their argument. He was never usually so agreeable, or present - sure they hung out at school, but Jared knew enough other people that it wasn’t like he was a constant presence in Evan’s life. He only really showed up to hang with him when he had something ‘important’ to tell Evan (it was never important), or he wanted to rant about something, or when he needed to reassure his moms that he really was proper friends with Evan. Otherwise Jared was just… around, every now and again.

Now, in contrast, he’s being almost clingy.

 

* * *

 

Evan’s first class is history. This, in itself, makes it sure to be a bad hour. History really isn’t Evan’s strong point - there’s too many names, all sounding too similar, too many dates and straight facts, and they aren’t interesting ones. It makes it particularly hard for him to keep track of what’s going on, even on a good day, and while he might feel okay today he also feels like his concentration is somehow lacking. He keeps getting caught up thinking about what’s up with Jared, whether it’s gonna last and if this means they’re actual friends. That and Connor, of course. Evan hasn’t seen him yet today, and they usually share this class (though Evan’s not sure he’d consciously registered that until now).

When the teacher begins talking and Connor still hasn’t arrived Evan decides to resign himself to the fact that he’s probably skipping. It’s only the third day of school, but it’s also Connor, so Evan tries not to think too hard about it.

He spends most of the class, as expected, completely zoned out. Alana nudges him at one point, from her seat next to him, when she realises he’s been staring at the same poster for about 5 minutes straight. She doesn’t say anything, just nods her head towards their teacher, who hasn’t stopped talking, but is definitely giving her speech directly to Evan, having realised he wasn’t paying attention. Evan’s eyes widen, and, giving Alana a quick grin in thanks, he decides that he can deal with his wandering thoughts later. He doesn’t need the stress of a disapproving teacher on his conscience right now.

The way that classes are structured at their school means that they get a brief 20 minute break after their first two periods. Usually students mess around, or eat, or do whatever else they can get away with. Evan normally just gets ready for his next two classes, and then hangs out in whichever room he’s meant to be in next.

He does exactly that, and when he’s sure there aren’t any teachers in his immediate vicinity, pulls out his phone. There’s ostensibly a rule about not using phones in school, but as far as Evan’s aware no-one’s actually had one confiscated, so long as it was away before class began. He’s still nervous having it out, but he’s done it enough now that he’s pretty sure no-one will say anything, and he only feels a _little_ stressed about the possibility. Plus it’s not like he really uses his phone for much - he texts his mom and occasionally Jared, and it’s only capable of running the most bare-bones web browser ever. He can hardly play games on it. If it gets taken away he’ll probably live.

He’d been planning on just googling random things until he found an article interesting enough to spend the rest of his break reading it. Evan did that a lot, for some reason. It was cool, learning new things, even if the knowledge was almost always useless. As a kid, when he’d been ‘gifted’ instead of a problem child, he’d sometimes look through the dictionary until he stumbled across a word he found particularly interesting, and then he’d use it constantly, whenever he got the opportunity, no matter how suited it was to context, until he found another one he preferred. In theory, he’d always liked learning. In reality Evan’s never liked being _taught_. It makes him feel stupid, for some reason, makes him feel like he’s being patronised (though, to be fair, that may have actually been the case, considering what the teaching staff here were like).

Facts, though, interesting ones - he can research those himself, can memorise them and recite them back to people, and it makes him feel good, like he’s capable of something. Evan’s pretty confident he could rock a pub quiz, if he were only old enough to go to a bar, and confident enough to actually answer things. He’s neither.

That plan, the one to find out more potentially interesting things, sort of goes out the window, though, when he unlocks his phone and realises his screen’s still open on the texts he’d exchanged with Connor.  

He doesn’t really have anything to lose, he thinks to himself. Worst case scenario Connor ignores him. If there were ever a time to reach out it’d be now, when Connor’s not even at school to confront him, or make it clear he doesn’t want to hear from Evan. It’s the logical thing to do.

**Evan [10:17 AM]:** hey connor, i don’t know if you want to talk, or if that’s. if you’ve changed your mind maybe, so sorry if that’s, like. yeah. but i read your book, so i can give it back, if you want? i mean like. of course you want it back, but just, if you let me know when? in case you don’t want to be seen around me at school or whatever. sorry if you don’t want me messaging you anymore! you can tell me and i’ll stop

Evan sends it, and then, realising he’s spent far too long refining the text (not that it seems particularly refined) and that break’s nearly over already, throws his phone to the bottom of his bag, before the rest of his class starts to file in.

He realises his mistake when, 20 minutes into the lesson, the phone starts vibrating from the bottom of his backpack. On the one hand he’s glad that Connor (or, he presumes Connor, because he really has no idea who else who’d be texting him) is apparently talking to him, but on the other hand it is _terrifying_ , just waiting for his teacher to call on him for not having his phone muted. It’s going to happen, he’s sure, going to be a whole thing, and then he’ll get detention, and he’ll have disappointed his mom and Jared will laugh at him and he’ll have to spend an hour of his life surrounded by people he doesn’t know, in a situation he really, really doesn’t be in.

In his defence he tries to be as subtle as he can, when he picks the rucksack up from the floor and begins rifling through it with a desperation that’s probably more than a little over the top.

No one says anything at all, and it gives Evan just enough time to glance at the first notification on his screen.

**Connor [10:48 AM]:** did you like it?

Which… really doesn’t answer any of the questions Evan’s asked. But it’s enough to tide him over for the rest of the hour, and if he bounces his leg a little more than usual, in a nervous kind of anticipation, it’s not something anyone else notices.

 

* * *

 

“Oh, _Evan.”_

It’s the first thing Jared says to him when he meets him at his locker. Evan glances up from his phone with a start, not quite sure what Jared’s talking about, before he gives Evan’s cell a pointed look. Evan opens his mouth, already prepared to defend himself, before he realises that actually he really doesn’t want to encourage this line of conversation.

“Hi, Jared,” he says instead, finishing the text he’d been typing out and sliding his phone into his pocket.

He’d ended up having a surprisingly enlightening conversation with Connor about his thoughts on the book (sat in a toilet eating his lunch for an hour, because he hadn’t been sure where the hell Jared had vanished to), and a surprisingly unenlightening one about Connor’s whereabouts.

‘ **Connor [12:46 AM]: im not at school** ’ was all that he’d managed to get out of the other boy.

“Evan,” Jared tries again, and Evan finds his hackles rising a little at his tone.

It’s not fair, that Jared thinks he can decide what’s good for Evan and what’s not. Beyond that, Jared doesn’t even _know_ that Evan’s texting Connor. Jared knows him well enough that it’s not an unreasonable assumption, because Evan doesn’t text, doesn’t have friends that aren’t Jared, and Connor’s the only thing that’s changed in the past day, but _still_.

“It’s fine, Jared. Let’s not talk about it.”

It’s a bit of a pitiful attempt, but it almost seems to work - Jared glances to the side like he’s trying to make up his mind about whether it’s an argument worth getting into, and Evan almost gets ahead of himself, let’s himself feel relieved that maybe this doesn’t have to be a whole thing.

Jared makes a decision, though, and it’s not the one he’d been hoping for.

“I think we need to, Evan.”

It’s not worth trying to stop him now. They have homeroom together, so they’re going to be sat next to each other for the next 30 minutes, and there’s no way Evan’s going to be able to keep Jared off the topic for that long.

Evan starts walking, sure that Jared’s going to follow. If he’s going to be having this conversation again it’s the least Jared can do to let him have it somewhere other than a crowded school corridor. There’s no point making a scene.

“Evan -” Jared tries.

“Jesus Christ, Jared, can you leave it for like, just, 5 seconds? Can we just sit down first?”

Jared quiets, but Evan can tell he’s not happy about it. This is going to be a big deal. He knows it will, know that the little spat they’d had yesterday will have been nothing more than a rehearsal for the disaster this conversations bound to be.

He’d really thought that their talk the other day was going to be the end of things. But then, he figures, Jared had probably thought that that was going to be the end of Evan talking to Connor. They’ve both ended up disappointed.

Jared starts talking almost immediately after Evan takes a seat.

“You’re really doing this? Like actually, not a joke, you’re still texting him? He’s a psycho, Evan. He’s going to kill you. I’ll wake up one day to a missing person’s report and you’ll be dead in a ditch somewhere. Your mom will be devastated.”

Evan glares at his desk. Jared keeps going.

“Even his family hates him! Zoe’s never going to give you a chance if she finds out you’re getting all buddy-buddy with her dickhead brother. Not that she’d give you a chance anyway, but like, even theoretically you’re screwed if you keep doing this. There’s no way he doesn’t have an ulterior motive.”

“Connor’s nice _,_ Jared,” Evan tries.

“You had a panic attack over him yesterday! What’s wrong with you, Evan? Are you _seriously_ that desperate to have a friend?”

“Kind of!” Evan says, because it’s true. “I know we aren’t friends, you keep saying that, so why does it matter if I’m, if I can maybe make an actual friend for once! Why does it matter to you, why does any of this matter to you? You’re not my keeper, Jared!”

“I’m trying to help you, Evan,” Jared says, tersely, and Evan watches his knuckles whiten as he clenches his fists.

“He’s not, there’s nothing wrong with Connor.” Evan’s tired of talking about this already. Jared’s always been stubborn, but it’s usually over things that actually make sense. With this? Evan just doesn’t get it. He’d expected Jared to put up a token effort to stop him talking to Connor, to stop him lowering himself (and, therefore, Jared,) even further down the social ladder, or to give the impression that he cared about Evan’s wellbeing, but that was all. For him to keep up the attempt is unexpected. “I want to be his friend.”

“Yeah,” Jared says. “You keep saying.”

The conversation stops there. Evan tries vainly to engage him, to get Jared talking about WoW or something, to stop him sulking, but he refuses to even look Evan’s way. Alana shoots him a pitying glance from across the room after the second time he refuses to acknowledge him, and that’s enough to get Evan to stop.

If Jared’s going to ignore him he may as well do the same.

It’s only partially out of spite that Evan returns to texting Connor.

**Evan [1:46 PM]:** jared thinks you’re a bad influence. or something? i don’t really know but i think we might be fighting now

**Connor [1:46 PM]:** shocker

**Connor [1:47 PM]:** kleinmans a fucking asshole

**Evan [1:47 PM]:** he’s not that bad?

**Connor [1:48 PM]:** christ hansen are u really gonna defend him

**Connor [1:48 PM]:** hes pissy with you bc youre talking to someone else

**Connor [1:48 PM]:** and i mean JUST talking

**Connor [1.49 PM]:** like ik im not one to talk but the guy has issues

**Evan [1:49 PM]:** i guess

It doesn’t feel good, really, letting Connor insult Jared like this, but what’s Evan meant to do? Upset Connor too? At least Connor’s not told him to back off, not told Evan that Jared’s going to kill him, never explicitly told him that they aren’t actually friends. It’s a weird situation to be in, where Connor’s response to something is the less extreme one.

**Connor [1:50 PM]:** look. we dont have to keep talking about kleinman if you dont want to

**Connor [1:50 PM]:** what do u usually talk about with people

**Connor [1:51 PM]** : i have literally no idea what u care about

Evan is an idiot, and predictable, and has a very limited number of interests.

**Evan [1:53 PM]:** uh. i like trees?  

**Connor [1:53 PM]:** jesus fucking christ

Evan tries to think of a way to reply that will make him sound a little less… well. A), boring, and B), really, really weird. Because the thing is, trees _are_ cool, and he likes them a lot, and he knows a lot of facts about a lot of things, but even more about trees, and he’s not ashamed of that, but. Well. He kind of is ashamed.

Plus Evan has sort of forgotten what other interests he has. He doesn’t have hobbies, nothing he does even semi-regularly nowadays, and while he remembers that he _used_ to do other things, beyond obsessing over his mistakes, and sleeping, and watching TV he barely pays attention to, it all feels impossibly far away. It’s hard to recall anything worth mentioning.

He used to play board games with his mom, when she was around a little more, but that’s… also not cool, not really an ‘interest’, and not something that’s happened in a long time. He used to go for walks, listen to music (though his music taste was probably, like, objectively terrible), until he busted his iPod one day. He’d never bothered to ask for another one, never thought it worth the stress, and walking by itself, without music, was, in Evan’s opinion, both boring and incredibly dangerous. If you weren’t wearing headphones, or otherwise visibly unwilling to talk, people felt like they could approach you. Evan very much didn’t want to be approached. So, that interest was also kind of non-existent nowadays.

He’d bird-watched before, had gotten into that at around the same time he’d gotten into botany, plants and trees and nature and all that. He’d actually go out and sit, find a bench somewhere to eat his lunch, make notes about what he’d seen. Draw (albeit poorly) anything particularly neat, or memorable. He’d stopped that too.

He writes letters to himself, though it’s not really a hobby so much as an obligation.

Evan’s always known he was a boring person. It’s not supposed to be surprising.

He’s still contemplating the sorry state of his life when he realises Connor’s carried on texting him.

**Connor [1:55 PM]:** ok go

**Connor [1:56 PM]:** enlighten me. tell me why i should care about trees

**Connor [1:56 PM]:** like this is kinda wild but fuck it why not

**Connor [1:57 PM]:** whats yr fave tree hansen. shoot me a tree fact. make my day

**Evan [1:58 PM]:** my favourite trees are maple trees

**Evan [2:00 PM]:** & there’s a load of quaking aspen in utah that have all been determined to be a, like, single living organism. and uh, it has a massive underground root system so it’s, it’s all connected, a clonal colony, so the trees are all identical and all came from a single ancestor? it’s the heaviest known organism, like 6 million kilograms, and one of the oldest ones too. 80,000 years old i think? or something like that. idk. sorry. i guess that’s pretty lame

Evan gets just enough time to read Connor’s reply before he’s putting his phone back in his bag. He’d been expecting him to sound amused, or dismissive, or just wholly uninterested. Connor’s always a surprise.

**Connor [2:00 PM]:** does it have a name?

 

* * *

 

  **Evan [5:32 PM]:** it’s called pando

**Evan [5:32 PM]:** it’s latin for i spread! that’s what the wikipedia page says at least. its other name’s the trembling giant though. i don’t know if that’s like, the common name, and pando’s the professional latin one or, if that’s even something that they have for stuff like this, or what, but. yeah.

Evan doesn’t text Connor the second he gets home, but he doesn’t want to let himself get too worked up over it, and he knows the more he waits the more likely it is that his excitement to respond will get overwhelmed by his fear of Connor’s reply, so it doesn’t take long before he’s pulled his phone out again.

**Connor [5:37 PM]:** you know what

**Connor [5:38 PM]:** thats pretty cool. as far as trees go

Evan grins at his phone, doesn’t bother hiding it because who’s he trying to fool? Connor might not care about trees, or most of what Evan tells him, but he’s at least trying to engage with him, is at least pretending to care. Evan almost feels optimistic about things. He tries not to let it get to his head, to think about how optimistic he’d felt about the Jared situation, and how well that had turned out.

**Evan [5:40 PM]:** are you going to be in school tomorrow? i need to give your book back

**Connor [5:41 PM]:** nah. i got suspended for punching that guy

He’d really been expecting Connor to just deflect again, to give half an answer, but now that Evan’s at home Connor almost seems to have settled into himself, seems more open. Maybe he’s just high. Evan’s not sure how much of the drug talk surrounding Connor is legitimate.

**Evan [5:42 PM]:** until when?

**Connor [5:42 PM]:** end of the week

That’s not so bad, not nearly as long as Evan would have expected for punching someone. There was obviously more to it, then. Evan’s not going to ask, not going to pry, but he gets a sick sort of satisfaction out of knowing that Connor didn’t just _randomly_ punch someone, that Jared was, at least, wrong about that. It seems easier to write it off if he can pretend Connor was acting out of self-defence, no matter how different the reality of the situation might be.

**Evan [5:45 PM]:** maybe i’ve been reading it wrong but, i think, do you maybe not want to talk at school? i get it, like, obviously people don’t really want to be seen with me, and that’s fine i don’t mind just texting, but? is that right?

Evan starts to worry when Connor hasn’t replied after 5 minutes of silence. When his phone finally lights up with a new message it doesn’t exactly fill him with relief, either. It’s almost like one of Evan’s long, ramble-y paragraphs. It’s unlike Connor.

**Connor [5:52 PM]:** its not about not wanting to be seen with you or whatever i just fucking. school is shitty. like really shitty for me. and its not. like obviously school doesnt make me a shitty person but when im in school its. harder. being nice and stuff. i dont. i wasnt trying to be mean with you the other day i just. cant stand being there. it fucks with me and then i always end up lashing out over the stupidest dumbest shit and its just not worth it. when i dont know how im gonna be day to day. so not seeing you and acting like i dont want to talk to u and that is like. preemptive damage control. its not about u

Evan hardly knows what to say to that.

**Evan [5:54 PM]:** okay.

**Connor [5:55 PM]:** and like. i really am sorry about yesterday. and the day before. i just. fucking. i dont know how to explain it. i dont know whats wrong with me

**Evan [5:56 PM]:** it’s okay, connor, really.

**Connor [5:57 PM]:** ok. sorry

It’s not an answer, but it’s something. It’s more information than Connor needed to give him, and Evan appreciates that, even if he doesn’t fully grasp the situation.

It feels like reconciliation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd bc my beta has a life where i do not. i'll probably end up making some edits to this chapter at some point bc i'm. not happy with it BUT i felt bad for not posting on friday so! here. if there are any errors it's bc i hate proof-reading my own work - please do pm me to lmk abt them!
> 
> i'll post chapter four sometime later this week, and then try to stick to the friday-posting schedule i said i would initially
> 
> if anyone's interested in my other work i posted a tree bros oneshot the other day, & i'll be posting a dumb kleinsen thing later this week, probably. who knows. as always, my tumblr's goldspill if u wanna chat or something! & ty for all the nice comments so far <3 i tend to feel weird about replying to them individually, but rest assured they're all super appreciated


	4. once broken through

Connor texts Evan the next morning, as Evan’s walking to school. He’d thought about texting Jared, asking if he was planning on giving Evan a lift or not, but the idea of interacting with him at all felt a bit like pushing his luck, so - walking. It’s too warm, and Evan’s clothes feel too tight and he himself feels stretched too far, but it’s okay, and he’s trying not to worry about it. Trying not to let the panic overwhelm him. He’s going to go to school, and he’s going to get through the day, and he’s not going to think about Jared, or the fact that absolutely no-one is going to talk to him today, or that he is completely alone now, and it might be that way for a very long time.

**Connor [7:23 AM]:** you never told me any of the other shit youre interested in

**Connor [7:23 AM]:** other than trees. apparently

Evan doesn’t really want to reply while he’s walking - knowing him he’ll end up tripping over a crack in the pavement, and then he’ll break his other arm and he’ll have to spend, like, 15 minutes trying to text his mom to ask her to come get him, or even better, he’ll have to just walk to the hospital by himself, and feel absurdly sorry for himself the whole way there. He’s not sure how Connor is with waiting, though, if it’d upset him somehow, and given that Connor’s kind of the only person talking to him right now it’s not a chance he wants to take.

**Evan [7:25 AM]:** i don’t really, i mean i’m not sure there is anything else? like i guess there’s stuff i like doing sometimes but it’s not. there’s nothing i do regularly? i’m not really very interesting

**Connor [7:26 AM]:** well thats depressing

**Connor [7:26 AM]:** its ok dw tho i got u

**Connor [7:27 AM]:** consider: opera

**Connor [7:27 AM]:** glassblowing

**Connor [7:27 AM]:** war memorabilia

**Evan [7:28 AM]:** i’m not sure i understand what’s happening here

**Connor [7:28 AM]:** im giving you interests and/or hobbies

**Connor [7:29 AM]:** youre welcome

Evan doesn’t entirely _get_ Connor’s sense of humour. He can’t even tell if what he’s saying is a joke, half the time, or if he’s being genuine. It’s all just... very different to what he’s used to. Connor’s different.

**Connor [7:30 AM]:** fr though what do you do all day if u dont care about stuff

**Evan [7:31 AM]:** i care about stuff! i just don’t really, i don’t do much. i can’t really afford to start anything new, and i don’t have friends to spend time with, and the only other stuff i think i could do i’m not very good at. so i don’t know what i’m meant to do with my time really. mainly i just sleep? or watch tv sometimes, or research stuff i guess

**Connor [7:32 AM]:** no wonder ur such an unhappy camper

**Connor [7:33 AM]:** maybe i really shld start suggesting hobbies for u man

**Evan [7:34 AM]:** i have to go to registration now, sorry! i’ll talk to you later, maybe? if you want, and i mean, like obviously you can still text me i just, probably won’t reply while i’m in class. but you know that, duh, so i don’t know why i’m telling you that

**Connor [7:35 AM]:** later

Evan actually puts his phone on silent, this time, as he rushes towards his locker. Talking to Connor meant he’d ended up cutting it a bit finer getting to school than he usually did, and while it wasn’t like anyone would particularly care if he was late it still didn’t feel good to think about it.

He doesn’t want to go to registration, he thinks, pulling his books out of his locker. He knows it’s going to upset him, seeing Jared, but he can’t just _not_ go, and he’s been psyching himself up for the inevitable feelings of nausea he’s sure are going to show up as soon as possible, so he thinks he’ll be able to cope. He still really, really doesn’t want to need to. His footsteps drag a little, find friction where there is none. It feels kind of like his whole being is rebelling at the prospect of entering the room.

Jared’s not there. It’s true that Evan, even with his fears of running late, is still a little early, but somehow he doesn’t think Jared’s just been slow getting in.

Evan realises his mistake a minute later. Jared’s here, he’s just... not sitting next to Evan anymore, not sitting where he usually does. Instead he’s talking, lowly, to someone Evan vaguely recognises as one of compsci geeks. Jared’s always had a rapport with the group, though Evan’s never know him to hang out with any of them. Times were changing.

Evan barely even registers his name being rattled off during roll call, just barks out a answer and hopes he hasn’t made a complete fool out of himself. It’s proof enough of how off he’s feeling. Normally he’s prepared from the beginning, has to rehearse his ‘present’ over and over again in his head while he waits patiently for his opportunity to speak. It’s another one of those things that makes him feel like he’s wrong, somehow, fundamentally. No-one else needs to do this kind of thing. No-one else would think it’d matter, because it _doesn’t_. No-one will notice if he messes up, or he’s a bit slow responding, or if he stutters over the one-word response he has to give, but he still has to worry about it.

No-one sits next to Evan, not even the latecomers who end up rushing to whichever seat’s nearest for fear of further reprimands, who aren’t even thinking when they pull out a chair. He’s not going to let it get to him.

Not wanting to try his teacher’s patience by getting his phone out Evan fishes Connor’s book out of his bag, and settles in to pretend to read for the next 5 minutes, before he has to funnel out into the tide of people and head to his next class. The teacher keeps trying to meet his eyes, presumably out of a misguided kind of sympathy. It feels humiliating.

He doesn’t read the book, really, can’t process the words properly, but he finds he can at least focus on the illustrations enough to block out what’s happening around him. He does so, blank and unthinkingly, until the bell rings.

 

* * *

 

**Evan [10:03 AM]:** did you know that there are eucalyptus trees in hawaii that have rainbow-coloured bark?

Evan informs Connor, a few minutes into his first break of the day. Connor doesn’t acknowledge the fact, but responds shortly, and that’s good enough that Evan’s not so bothered that the aforementioned fact went ignored.

**Connor [10:05 AM]:** how do you feel about jogging?

Evan is, truthfully, not so keen on anything that involves moving too quickly. He can deal with hiking, a steady walking pace, but anything above that and he starts to worry too much about how sweaty he’s getting, how badly his muscles are going to ache in the morning, how likely it is that he stops being able to breathe properly, because of the pace, how likely it is that that, in turn, will somehow lead to him dying.

**Evan [10:07 AM]** not so great

He figures Connor doesn’t need (and wouldn’t want) to hear the whole explanation.

**Connor [10:07 AM]:** leaf rubbings?

**Connor [10:08 AM]** : like the ones you do with a stick of charcoal on a piece of paper. that seems kinda yr jam

**Evan [10:08 AM]:** better?

And in a way it’s exactly the kind of thing Evan thinks he would be interested in doing. It’s outdoors, it doesn’t involve other people, he can do it at his own pace - there’s so many reasons it _should_ be appealing, but he just… can’t comprehend actually doing it. It’s like there’s a mental block. He’s not sure why he thought Connor’s suggestions might be different, might be able to break through whatever mental wall he’s managed to construct, but it’s been like this for a very long time now. It doesn’t matter how much he wants to do something, if it takes more than the bare minimum of energy, and it’s not something he absolutely has to do, he just can’t do it. Can’t start it, can’t even think about starting it. He’ll get as far as putting his shoes on to go for a walk and he’ll find himself unable to tie his laces. It doesn’t make any sense at all.

Evan thinks it’s important he tells Connor about it, though, because otherwise Connor’s just going to keep suggesting things, again, and again, and again, until he’s sick to death of Evan feigning interest but not actually trying anything new, and then ends up resenting him for it, and then they have a huge fight and Connor blocks his number and Evan never speaks to anyone ever again.

**Evan [10:10 AM]:** look, i figured i should tell you now that, like. it’s cool that you’re doing this, and trying to help (if you’re actually being serious? i think you probably are but i can’t really tell so if you’re not, just, ignore this) and, like. theoretically i mean, yes this is the kind of thing i would be interested in doing, but. i kind of can’t? at the moment? it’s stupid, and it doesn’t make any sense, and i know it’s dumb and there’s no reason for it and that but, like, if i try and do anything that, that i don’t have to do, that i don’t have an obligation to do, i just. can’t. so

**Connor [10:12 AM]:** would it help if i did it too?

Evan isn’t sure, actually. It’s not the kind of offer Jared would ever have made, supposing he’d known about this particular facet of Evan’s complete inability to function like a normal person. He’s not sure how it would even work.

**Evan [10:14 AM]:** i mean maybe?

**Connor [10:15 AM]:** well its not like i have any other plans for this week so why the hell not

**Connor [10:16 AM]:** ill send you photos

**Connor [10:16 AM]:** of the leaf things obviously

**Connor [10:17 AM]:** look forward to it

**Evan [10:18 AM]:** i will?

Evan is looking forward to it, if he’s being honest with himself. He’s not happy, exactly, with the way things are working out. He’s actually pretty sure, given the option, that he’d have chosen to prevent all of this, would’ve stuck it out with Jared and never bothered with Connor, with the change and the unpredictability and the uncertainty. But he’s also reasonably confident that this isn’t _entirely_ a bad thing. It feels like a strange sort of progress, like something’s shifting, like his life isn’t just going to be the same thing, repeated, ad infinitum. It’d felt that way for a really long time.

 

* * *

 

The rest of Evan’s day goes pretty much the same way, in that he doesn’t interact with anyone, aside from the occasional text he sends to Connor when he has a spare minute, and Jared makes a point to ignore him whenever he’s around. He’s already sick to death of it.

He’s packing his bag when Alana approaches him.

“Evan?” she asks, because this is Evan’s life, now, is having almost-strangers approach him for reasons entirely unbeknownst to him.

“Alana?” he replies, trying to sound like this is a normal thing, and he’s not internally panicking, wondering how he’s screwed things up this time, whether Alana’s going to end up throwing his whole life out of balance again somehow.

She probably wouldn’t do it intentionally, at least.

“I saw,” she begins, and then, faltering like she’s not sure how she’s meant to be talking about this kind of thing, like she’s actually out of her element for once in her life, continues, “you and Jared - you’re fighting, right?”

Evan wants to sigh. Of course it comes back to Jared. He’s not sure what she wants him to do, whether he’s expected to defend himself, or explain, or if Alana just wants to point out that she’s made the observation, for some reason. It’s only been a day. It doesn’t even make _sense_ that she’s noticed, really, because Jared might be shooting him filthy looks every so often but Jared does that all the time, they have stupid, pointless spats _all the time._ There’s no reason she should be treating this one any differently.

Either Alana is far more observant than anyone gives her credit for, or Evan’s been sulking even more obviously than he’d imagined.

“I mean, uh, I don’t know if I’d consider it fighting, necessarily, but-”

“He’s been ignoring you,” Alana points out. Evan’s fully aware of the fact, actually, and isn’t particularly pleased she’s pointing it out when he’d rather just pretend it had been a mutual thing, but it’s whatever. It’s fine. He’s fine.

“Yeah,” Evan says. “I’m, uh. He’s not happy with me.”

It’s barely an explanation, but Alana doesn’t push for more, just nods like he’s revealed some great truth to her and waves at someone who’s passing by, like she’s not even fully focused on talking to him. Evan’s always been impressed by her ability to multitask, and to know basically everyone in their shitty high school, and to do most things, really. Alana’s just generally quite impressive.

“Well, you know, if you ever need to talk about it I’m here for you,” she tells him. “I know how hard it can be to lose contact with people, especially someone you’ve been friends with for so long, and for what it’s worth I’ve always thought Jared was kind of mean to you.”

Evan doesn’t know how to reply to that. Nothing makes sense anymore, he registers, absolutely nothing about anything that is happening, that’s happened over the past few days, none of it makes any sense at all. He doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly so interested in being (or not being, he supposes, in Jared’s case) his friend, in talking to him, but he doesn’t like it. Connor was… bearable. Connor reaching out made sense, in a way, because he had a reason to. He doesn’t know why Alana’s trying.

He’s almost tempted to believe someone’s setting him up, that someone’s pushed her to do this, to make a fool out of him, somehow, but he also knows that’s not the kind of person Alana is, that she probably wouldn’t go for something like that. He just doesn’t understand why this is happening, then. He’d thought he understood people, understood his place in the school system and how people treated him, and why they treated him like that, and that none of it was going to change. He’d expected to finish the year as he’d started, sort-of-friends with Jared, and decidedly not-friends with everybody else.

Instead, apparently, Jared’s refusing to speak to him now, and he’s texting Connor Murphy of all people, and Alana’s trying to offer him a shoulder to cry on. It’s not even been a full week of being back in school. He doesn’t understand.

“I, um,” he tries, because he’s not rude, he’s not going to make this a whole thing, but he also really, really doesn’t feel like this is a conversation he can be having right now, “I appreciate it, Alana. Really. But, like, I’ll have to think about it? Just, ‘cause, like, it’s all kind of just happened. Like, yesterday. So.”

“I understand,” Alana reassures him, patting his shoulder, “and I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk about it.”

And then she walks away.

Evan feels kind of hysterical. He’s pretty sure that none of this is happening, actually, that this has all just been a hyper-realistic dream, and he’ll wake up in a minute and realise that absolutely nothing has changed, and everything will make sense again.

He walks home in a daze.

His mom isn’t home, of course, because she’s never home, and he needs to stop being surprised by that. It’s not helping anyone, and the heart-wrenching pain that tears through Evan’s gut when he realises that, no, Heidi hasn’t miraculously left work early because of some psychic connection she has to Evan that’s let her know how decidedly not okay he is right now doesn’t exactly do wonders to his psyche.

He texts Connor, because Connor is the closest thing he has to a friend right now, even though he’s probably insulted Evan at least twice as many times as he’s had a proper conversation with him. It was probably just because he’d been with Jared, Evan reassures himself, because Connor is a good person. Evan desperately, desperately needs Connor to be a good person, in fact, because if he’s not he thinks he might actually have a complete mental breakdown. Evan is not coping well.

It’s all sort of hit him at once, had been steadily building, day by day, but it is rapidly becoming clear that actually, the panic attack the other day was just a fun, preparatory thing, like the first argument with Jared had been, and now he’s getting to deal with the real thing. Evan’s not sure he can deal with the real thing, though, which is rather the problem.

He feels a little like he might start crying.

So, he texts Connor, because _fuck._ He can’t possibly make things any worse.

**Evan [3:40 PM]:** hey connor

Connor replies quickly, as always. Evan doesn’t really know what Connor’s been doing while suspended, but whatever it is clearly hasn’t kept him particularly busy.

**Connor [3:42 PM]:** hey hansen

Evan stares blankly at his phone for far too long. How is he even meant to start this, begin to talk about how completely and utterly wrong his whole life is beginning to feel, how all of this feels like a terrible mistake he’s never going to be able to come back from? He can’t, really.

**Evan [3:47 PM]:** alana tried to talk to me today, which, like. obviously alana talks to everyone, really, but she tried to tell me that she was there for me? if i needed to talk about the fact that jared and i are fighting or something? and i’m kind of losing my mind over it a little

Evan’s on a roll now, and apparently needed to vent about things more than he realised, because he just keeps typing.

**Evan [3:49 PM]:** and just everything’s gotten so messed up and i haven’t gone this long without talking to jared in years, basically, and even if he is kind of a gigantic dick i don’t really know what i’m meant to do now. like school sucks so bad and obviously, i’m not exactly popular so it’s not like anyone else is or has ever really been willing to talk to me so i’m just, not talking to anyone

**Evan [3:51 PM]:** which is fine, i’m fine, but also my mom, i don’t know if i’ve said but she’s, like, never home, so i’m not. there’s no one here either. and i don’t

**Evan [3:52 PM]:** i just don’t really know how i’m meant to be dealing with this i guess, like i appreciate you talking to me and stuff btu even this is just, i’m sorry but, so, so weird, right? like

**Evan [3:53 PM]:** i don’t know. sorry. this was stupid

Connor doesn’t immediately reply, and Evan starts crying, just a little. He feels so childish, so immature, so utterly, inconceivably foolish, because it’s not even like anything’s gone horribly wrong. Alana talked to him, tried to help, and now he’s having a breakdown over it. It’s completely irrational. None of this is life-altering, as much as it may feel it, none of this matters, really, so _why_ is he acting like this?

It’s just too much, he thinks. Everything is too much, too much change and too many surprises and just, it’s too much for him to process. He’d been shutting down whenever he thought about any of it, really, and now he’s paying the price. Evan has never been good at dealing with the unpredictable. He likes routine, he likes knowing what’s going to happen, getting to feel as prepared as he possibly can be, because at least that way he knows how to deal with the worst of things. But nothing makes any sense, now, and he doesn’t know how to cope with that.

He can recognise the problem, but that doesn’t mean anything at all when he has absolutely no idea how to fix it.

His phone starts ringing, then, actually ringing, which means that someone is calling him, and it terrifies him enough that he stops crying. He _hates_ phone calls. Talking to people face-to-face is bad, isn’t good but Evan would take 20 shitty conversations over one 5 minutes phone call any day.

His mom knows this, of course, Heidi barely ever calls unless she’s so rushed off her feet that she doesn’t have time to text, and even then she usually sends him a text to let him know she’s going to call beforehand. Which means, presumably, that it’s Connor calling, because Jared isn’t talking to him, and is generally respectful enough of Evan’s anxiety that he doesn’t call all that often. He certainly wouldn’t be calling if he wanted to apologise.

Evan picks up, because at least this way his brain can think about all the ways he’s screwing up the conversation instead of his whole life, or whatever.

“Hey,” Connor says.

“Hey,” Evan manages, trying not to cringe at how broken his voice sounds. It’s painfully obvious he’s been crying, or at least been having kind of shitty time.

“You sound like shit,” Connor says, and Evan laughs a little because actually this might be okay. He might be able to deal with this. The conversation. The rest of it he can’t, of course, doesn’t even want to contemplate dealing with right now, but if he can just get through one awkward phone call, then that’s a start at least. That’s something.

“I feel like shit.”

Connor makes an amused sound in the back of his throat, and then Evan hears some kind of rustling, what might be pencils rolling off a desk.

“Hey, Hansen,” Connor says, after a minute of this, “do you have any paper? And like, a pen.”

“What?” Evan asks, and then, when Connor doesn’t offer an explanation, “I guess? Give me a second.”

For some reason talking to Connor over the phone isn’t as stressful as it should be. Maybe it’s because Evan’s already so stressed, maybe he just can’t get anymore worked up about things, but he’s not sure that’s quite right. It’s not that Connor’s ‘different’, it’s just that Evan’s never been able to understand him, or his motivations. It would be wrong to say it’s comforting, that Evan can’t predict what Connor’s going to do, or say, basically ever, but in a way he’s used to it. It makes sense that he doesn’t know what’s going on with him, and not much makes sense right now. It shouldn’t work, maybe usually it wouldn’t, but for right now, talking to him is kind of helping, a little. Not much, but a little.

“Okay,” Evan says, having produced a notebook he’s pretty sure his mom bought him something like two years ago, for a birthday come and gone, that he’d used maybe once before now, and a red pencil. He couldn’t find any pens. “What am I meant to be doing?”

“Alright,” Connor says, breezily, and Evan can just about make out the scratching of a pen in the background. “Draw two 10 by 10 grids. Don’t worry about having them be, like, even or whatever. If they look like shit it’s fine.”

“What-” Evan tries again, before Connor immediately interrupts.

“Grids,” he says. “Two of them.”

“Okay,” Evan says, giving up his half-hearted attempt to understand what Connor’s trying to achieve.

The two of them are silent for a minute or two. Evan tries his best to make the grids even, because while it might not matter he also knows he’s going to end up getting frustrated if he has to look at them for too long, and they aren’t at least mostly straight. He doesn’t have a ruler, so it doesn’t work out particularly well.

“Now what?” Evan asks, trying not to sound too frustrated with his inability to draw a proper grid.

“Alright, label all the boxes on the x-axes with letters, and the ones on the y-axes with numbers.”

Evan does so, and then, frowning bemusedly at his notebook, realisation sinking in, asks, “is this, like, battleships?”

“Yep,” Connor says.

“Okay,” Evan says, and starts labelling.

Connor’s weird.

It’s not until they’ve finished two games of battleships (Evan lost both, somehow, and he’s almost convinced Connor has some kind of preternatural ability to predict Evan’s moves, because he lost _spectacularly_ ) and an attempt at connect four that ended up devolving into a lot of confused scribbling that Evan realises Connor’s been trying to distract him, and that it’s worked.

“Thanks, Connor,” he says, because he doesn’t think he needs to explain.

Connor hums, low in the back of his throat, and then asks Evan if he wants to try playing chess. 

 

* * *

 

Evan gets through Friday. That’s about all he does. Alana doesn’t approach him again, thankfully, though she does keep shooting him sad looks whenever she sees him sitting alone. Jared ignores him more. He texts Connor every now and again.

He doesn’t see his mom.

Well, he does, kind of, Friday morning, for all of ten minutes before he’s out the door and walking to school. She looks run down, haggard, the same way she has for weeks now, months, like her whole body’s being pulled towards the ground by an invisible weight. Evan feels a little guilty for being mad at her not being around so much.

The thing is he _knows_ she’s trying, knows she’s doing her best for him, that the only reason she works such long hours is because she wants him to go to college, wants Evan to be happy, but it doesn’t change the fact that it hurts. It doesn’t stop the ugly, bitter thing that lives inside him from growing, silently, with every day that passes without her being home.

He misses his mom, is the thing.

The closest thing he has to a parental figure right now is his therapist, which. Well. He’s paid to put up with Evan’s shit.

Losing Jared’s sometimes-friendship’s just put into perspective how little human contact Evan actually gets, how few people he knows, even just as acquaintances. Evan’s not sure he’s ever felt so aware of just how lonely his life is.

The most human contact he’s had in recent memory was when he worked as a park ranger, and even then he could tell his coworkers were just putting up with him. He never got invited out to do anything with them, never spoke more than a few words to anyone.

It’s not even that Evan likes being alone, particularly, he’s just so terrible at being around other people that it seems like the better option. It’s certainly the less embarrassing one - at least this way he only ever lets himself down.

He spends the weekend alone too.

His mom has classes.

It’s fine. Evan is absolutely, definitely, 100% fine. Things are okay. If sometimes it feels like his mom, like Heidi’s job and her classes and her future, that maybe they matter more than Evan, well, that’s. That’s okay.

He’s sure it’s okay.

He spends most of the weekend thinking about how badly he needs to not be thinking about things, mostly. Thinks about doing the leaf rubbings, like Connor had suggested, except every time he thinks about going outside he feels nauseous, and Connor hasn’t done it either, has probably forgotten about it, so. That’s fine.

Connor’s going to be back in school on Monday. That’s one of the things Evan tries not to think about, except the only person he talks to all weekend is Connor, so not thinking about Connor is pretty difficult. The thing is, Evan knows that Connor isn’t going to talk to him at school. He’s said as much. Connor and Evan aren’t friends. Evan isn’t really sure what they are, but he thinks most friends probably don’t have to agree to, like, not speak to each other in public, or ever, at least face to face, so.

But Connor’s going to be at school on Monday, and it’s going to be weird, and Jared’s going to keep shooting him looks, probably all day long, pointedly, to make Evan feel bad, to remind him that this is who he gave up Jared for, someone who won’t even look at him in public. And then Alana will notice that, that Jared’s being even more annoying than usual, and she’ll try and talk to Evan again, and then Evan’s going to feel doubly bad because he can’t be Alana’s friend, can’t talk to her about this, doesn’t want to, and it’s going to be just the worst. So, yeah, Evan’s kind of worried about it.

That’s his weekend. Worrying about things, and looking up facts because his computer is too shitty to run any actual video games, and solitaire can only amuse him for so long, and trying not to think about basically anything, because it all leads back to Connor, and Jared, and Alana, and he doesn’t want to think about any of them.

He plays some more battleships too, though, and that’s mostly okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying to get back into the friday-posting schedule instead of whatever the hell i've been doing the past two weeks. unbeta'd
> 
> ty for all of yr comments! as always my tumblrs @goldspill if u wanna talk about stuff or follow me or whatever (i mainly post abt musicals if i'm not busy making ridiculous personal posts. so)
> 
> anyway. writing this chapter was like pulling teeth. i have no idea why. i'll see you guys next week


	5. scaling the well

Connor doesn’t want talk to him at school, but apparently Zoe Murphy does.

That’s what Alana tells Evan at least, when she sits next to him at lunch on Monday - he’d only been planning on staying in the cafeteria long enough to see if Jared had cooled off at all, but leaving Alana there alone seemed mean, and he didn’t have the heart to, even if he _was_ decidedly uncomfortable.

“You know Zoe, right?” Alana asks. “She’s in the year below, so maybe you haven’t really spoken to her much, but she goes to the GSA sometimes. We talk sometimes. She mentioned something about her brother? I know Connor hasn’t been in school much lately, so.”

“Yeah. Zoe,” Evan says, because, like, yeah. He knows Zoe.

“Oh good, I hadn’t seen you guys talking before so I assumed -” Alana pauses, shooting a grin at someone behind Evan, “but anyway. How have you been? I know it’s only been a week but I am _so_ swamped with work. You always forget how much admin is involved in some of the societies here.”

Evan hums in agreement, because he knows Alana doesn’t really expect a reply. He’s right, and she’s midway into a spiel about her work for the student paper when he starts to zone out. It’s almost nice, or would be if he wasn’t internally obsessing over the fact that Zoe Murphy wants to talk to him. Presumably about her brother.

Usually he’d have relished the opportunity for an actual conversation with her. This, though - this is not ideal.  Evan’s not even sure why Zoe would know anything about his semi-friendship with Connor - it’s not like Connor would have talked to her about it if he’d had a choice. Even if he wasn’t avoiding Evan _just_ because he was kind of a loser, he probably wasn’t keen to have it get out that the two actually spoke.

Evan’s going to worry about this for the rest of the day. That’s the reality of the situation. The weekend might have given him the space and time he’d needed to mostly come to terms with the mess his life had become, but this wasn’t something he’d planned for.

Life has had a habit of surprising him, recently.

“It’s been nice talking to you,” Alana tells him at the end of lunch. He never really got the chance to talk back, Evan thinks. It was a pretty one-sided conversation all things considered. He smiles and nods anyway. Alana’s nice. She tries.

Alana opens her mouth like she wants to say more, and Evan feels his chest tighten, go taught like a bowstring. He’s good at reading people, is the thing, or at least most people. He might read too much into things, because, you know, the anxiety, but - generally he’s pretty good at predicting what someone’s going to say, or do. High schools students are, generally, pretty predictable.

So he knows, with reasonable certainty, that she’s going to bring up Jared again, or even Connor, maybe, though as far as Evan’s aware she hasn’t yet been clued in on that whole… situation. He just knows she’s going to start trying to get emotional with him, or concerned, pitying, and he can’t bear that right now. He feels sorry enough for himself already. No need to rub it in.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, and starts walking away as quickly as he can, without it being obvious that he’s trying to escape.

He’s been doing that a lot, recently. Evan tends to respond to stressful situations in one of three ways. The first is avoiding them. That means shutting down conversations, or ignoring texts, or just generally being obstinate enough that people give up on trying to talk to him about whatever it is he’s decided he definitely does not need to talk about right now, thank you.

If that doesn’t work he lies. It’s a bad habit. Worse than bad, really, if you get into it, but Evan already hates himself enough for that. He tries to avoid thinking about it, rather characteristically. So - something happens, something he doesn’t want to deal with. If he can’t outright avoid the situation, or the questions, or the people - he finds a way to lie about it, to make it slightly less terrible.

Most of the time he doesn’t even mean to do it, really. It’s so ingrained in him, in his system, that the second he feels like there’s a problem he’s talking, trying to defuse the situation. Usually nothing comes of it. He doesn’t do it for attention, or because he enjoys it, he just panics, and when he panics he does things without thinking.

If neither of those things work, he panics. Which isn’t exactly _coping_ with stress, but, you know. It is what it is.

So he avoids Alana. Avoids thinking about most everything. Avoids Connor, avoids Jared’s gaze, avoids the cafeteria and any and all situations that might draw attention to the fact that Evan has a problem, that he doesn’t have any friends, that he might just be the most pathetic person in their entire fucking school.

 

* * *

 

 **Connor [5:52 PM]:** hey hansen

 **Connor [5:53 PM]:** look at this shit

Attached is a photo of an origami frog. It’s a bright, neon orange, and has more creases than it probably should do, like someone’s made a lot of mistakes but kept trying anyway. It has googly eyes. One’s slightly out of place, a little too far down the face of the frog.

 **Evan [6:01 PM]:** what are you making next?

 

* * *

 

Zoe doesn’t actually end up talking to him, in the end, at least not for a while after Evan had stopped expecting her to.

It’s a Thursday when she catches up to him in the corridor, a little over a week after Alana had mentioned she might be looking for him. He and Connor have been texting pretty regularly, at least once a day, and usually more often than that. They talk less about Evan’s problems than he might’ve expected they would, but Connor’s ended up being strangely good at figuring out what it is exactly that Evan needs of him, and when, and that’s more than enough. It’s _helpful_.

They don’t call again. Evan’s fine with that.

He still hasn’t given Connor his book back, though, is the thing - Evan keeps expecting him to ask for it back even though he hasn’t so much as mentioned it. He wonders, sometimes, if maybe Connor’s memory is just kind of crappy, because he never brought up the leaf rubbings thing again either. The book, though, it has to be important to him. It doesn’t seem like the kind of thing he’d just forget about.

Evan’s taken to bringing it to school with him, out of some misguided belief that maybe Connor will just know that he has it, and ask, and Evan won’t have to approach him ever again. Connor still doesn’t want to talk to him in real life. Or, he hasn’t said as much, but it’s implied, Evan thinks, and getting his book back means interacting with Evan, so. Maybe that’s the problem.

He’s just about to head home when Zoe approaches him.

“Hey, Evan,” he hears from somewhere behind him. He knows it’s her without looking, and frankly doesn’t want to turn around and confirm his suspicions. It’s probably sad, that he can recognise her from her voice alone when they’ve had maybe one conversation before, but Evan’s always been that kind of pathetic.

He feels his shoulders give, slightly, slackens his grip and lets his backpack gently slide to the floor. He has a funny feeling this is going to be a long conversation.

“Hi Zoe,” he says, as he slowly moves to face her, and waits.

She frowns, quiet for a moment like now that she has his attention she’s not quite sure what to do with it. Evan doesn’t try to help. He’s holding out hope that maybe somehow she’ll have miraculously forgotten entirely what she wanted with him, and he can avoid another awkward, public confrontation. He likes Connor, but he’s getting kind of sick of all the conversations he’s having to have because of him.

“You’re,” she starts, hesitantly, “you know my brother, right?”

It’s kind of a dumb question, Evan thinks. Zoe knows he knows him, because Zoe saw Connor shove Evan on the first day of school. She’d called him a psycho. He doesn’t say this.

“Connor? Yeah.”

It’s even more uncomfortable than it usually is talking to people. It doesn’t seem like even _Zoe_ wants to be having this talk - she’s struggling to meet his eyes, keeps glancing down the hallway past Evan like she’s hoping for a speedy getaway. Evan’s tempted to tell her she really doesn’t need to do this, whatever it is, that he’s fine and he doesn’t want to talk about it, and probably Connor wouldn’t want him to either.

That’s not like him, though. Evan doesn’t rock the boat.

“Um, well. Look. I told you before, right?” Zoe says. “He’s like. Super fucked up, okay? And I don’t want to, just.” She pauses, and sighs. “He doesn’t talk to me, but I heard him talking to you on the phone. And he doesn’t - the only person Connor calls nowadays is his dealer or whatever, so it was weird, and I asked about it. Or, well, not asked, but anyway - he told me it was you, eventually.”

“Okay,” Evan says, because it feels like Zoe’s expecting him to say something, and it’s all he can get out. He feels guilty. He’s not sure why it always has to feel like he’s committed some kind of crime in talking to Connor. Why people seem to think it’s anyone’s business but their own.

“I’m just worried about you,” she says. “Connor, he’s - he gets like this, sometimes. But you have to understand that he’s not a good person, and whatever he’s saying to you won’t last, okay? He’ll flip on you. You’ll do something innocuous, and he’ll get offended or upset for absolutely no reason whatsoever and go apeshit over it. And no offence, but I don’t really think you’re the kind of person who’ll be able to cope with that. Because it won’t just be the once. It’ll keep happening, over and over again, because it always does, and then you’ll both end up infinitely worse off than you would’ve done if you’d never started talking to each other. That’s just what Connor’s like.”

Evan wants to protest. For one thing he’s not as pathetic as most people tend to assume. He has anxiety, sure, okay, but it flares up more often around new situations or people than anything else. Things Evan’s not prepared to deal with. In a way he’s _always_ sort of expecting Connor to lose his temper. He’s constantly waiting for it. He wouldn’t be okay with it, realistically, with Connor snapping at him, or pushing him again, or whatever, because he’s never okay when people are unhappy with him, but he’s not a child. He doesn’t need to be coddled.

The other sort-of-issue Evan has, then, is that he thinks Zoe might be being kind of unfair on her brother. It’s not something Evan wants to say out loud, and he’s not planning to, but he knows Connor now, at least a little, and he’s not sure how long it’s been since Zoe has. Known him, that is.

Connor tries. That’s the thing.

He still fucks up, obviously and frequently, but he never acts like it’s Evan’s fault. He doesn’t apologise either, to be fair, but Evan’s standards aren’t particularly high, after Jared. Connor, he’s found, is weirdly self-flagellant. He’d probably never admit it, but Evan’s smarter than anyone bothers to give him credit for, and he has more than enough experience with self-hatred to recognise it in someone else. Connor always seems like he’s regretting something.

He wants to tell Zoe as much - not all of it, not in detail, but he wants to defend Connor, at least, defend himself, almost as badly as he doesn’t want to say anything at all. It kind of sucks that the one person he’s apparently willing to stand up to is Zoe, of all people.

“Look, I appreciate it, Zoe, but it’s kind of not really your business?” he tries, and hates how rude he sounds. He really doesn’t want to be a prick, but he’s on the defensive, and he’s tired, and stressed, and he wants to go home. It’s not her business. It really isn’t. “Just - I’ll be okay, okay?”

Zoe frowns at him. She doesn’t seem mad at least, which is a relief even though Evan can’t quite grasp why she isn’t. She just looks confused, more than anything.

“Look,” Evan says, again, when it becomes clear that Zoe’s not going to try talking again anytime soon. “I have to get home, but, like, I really do appreciate the concern. Just. He’s a person too, right? I don’t know what, like, he doesn’t talk about happened with you guys, but it’s obvious you don’t like him, and that’s fine but. He’s my friend, kind of? So. I’m okay. But thanks.”

Evan shrugs. He’s content to leave things there, to stop digging himself deeper into the grave he’s inadvertently started making himself. Why did it have to be Zoe?

“Okay,” Zoe says. It sounds like she’s just trying to fill the silence.

Evan moves to leave before he remembers Connor’s book, the weight heavier in his bag than it has any right to be. He should give it to Zoe. That’s - that would be the reasonable thing to do, surely? Even if Evan _had_ made things weird (and he has) it can’t be worse than trying to corner Connor to give it back. Zoe’s a far safer option.

“Oh, hey, um - Connor leant me this book, right? And I haven’t had a chance to return it yet, and obviously you guys aren’t close, but. Uh.”

Zoe takes pity on him and nods.

“I can give it to him,” she says, frowning like Evan’s done something entirely baffling, but not looking at anything in particular. Evan’s just grateful it’s not directed at him.

Zoe’s frown only deepens when Evan presents her with the book.

“It was already like that when I got it, I swear,” Evan says, internally cringing at the state of the thing. He has literally no reason to feel ashamed of the state of the hardback - it’s Connor’s fault. He feels weird about it regardless, like maybe he should’ve tried to fix it, somehow, even though that makes absolutely no sense and Connor would have inevitably been the opposite of grateful.

“No, I know,” Zoe says, quietly. “Just.”

She pauses, breathes out through her nose, and holds the book against her chest. Another moment passes. Evan isn’t sure what’s happening.

Zoe seems marginally more sure of herself when she next meets his eyes.

“Just be careful, okay?” she says, nodding politely at Evan and then walking towards the school exit.

He feels like he’s missed something important. It certainly feels that way, with how closed-off and distant Zoe suddenly seems. He wonders what, exactly, he’s done wrong now.

Evan stares at his feet instead of watching her leave.

 

* * *

 

 **Evan [8:24 PM]:** zoe tried to talk to me today

 **Evan [8:26 PM]:** i guess you probably know that already, because i gave her your book to give back to you, unless she hasn’t done that yet, in which case, like. surprise!

 **Evan [8:27 PM]:** it’s not a very fun surprise. sorry

Connor doesn’t reply to him until the morning, and when he does text Evan he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge the texts he’d sent. Evan can’t figure out if he’s relieved or frustrated.

 

* * *

 

Alana’s sat with him for lunch every day for about a week when she asks to sign Evan’s cast.

It takes him a minute to reply. For one thing he’d kind of assumed Alana had just been spending time with him because she felt sorry for him, and he didn’t talk a lot, and if anyone had bothered to ask Evan would have been too afraid to say they were friends, so her social status wasn’t in too much jeopardy. This, though - well. It’s not much, it’s a dumb signature on a stupid cast. It doesn’t mean anything. But it still feels like a weird kind of commitment to Evan, somehow, like she’s apparently decided he’s okay enough to associate with now.

“Um, sure, I mean go for it,” Evan says, trying not to sound too surprised. His voice comes out too high pitched, despite his best efforts. “I don’t have, like, a sharpie or anything, but-”

“I do,” Alana says, and that’s that.

Alana doesn’t take up space the way Connor does. Her signature is neat, and tight, and exactly what Evan had been expecting. Alana likes to be predictable, he thinks. There’s some kind of safety in that.

She caps the pen and puts it back into her pencil case, and that back into her bag. Evan’s slightly jealous anyone can keep up that kind of organisation. It usually lasts about a week or so for him, and then he starts just sort of throwing his pens into the bottom of his bag, and hoping they don’t break or anything.

“I’ve never signed a cast before, you know,” Alana informs him.

Evan’s kind of surprised by how unsurprising the statement is. Alana’s popular, but not so popular that she seems to have much of a social life outside of school, and her societies. She has friends, knows most everyone, and definitely everyone in their year, and most people in the year below theirs, though she never seems to spend much time with anyone in particular. Evan doesn’t think he’s ever heard her making plans with anyone before.

Alana doesn’t give off a vibe of being too good for people, it’s definitely not that - she makes it a habit to be approachable. Evan’s seen it. It’s something else, something hard to pin down. She has a restlessness about her, like everything that’s going on in her life, all the people she meets are just stopgaps, brief interludes on the way to something greater. Most people want to be more than that.

It has to get kind of lonely.

“That’s okay,” Evan tells her. “I didn’t think anyone wanted to bother signing mine.”

“Connor did,” Alana says, like it’s some great insight. “You know, I never would’ve pegged him as the kind of person to bother with that sort of thing. I was surprised. I think everyone was.”

Evan thinks she might be reading more into it than there is, because for all she knows that’s basically the only interaction the two of them have ever had. He thinks most people probably haven’t even noticed his cast, let alone that Connor’s signed it. Alana talks like she’s some communal avatar of the student body, sometimes. There’s probably something to be learned from that, but Evan’s tired of trying to figure people out. Sometimes he just wants things to be simple.

“Connor’s okay,” Evan tells her. Alana nods, like she knows.

Evan wonders.

 

* * *

 

 **Connor [9:34 PM]:** you know that park near school?

 **Connor [9:35 PM]:** well its not nearby. its like 20 minutes away but it has the fucking. uh

 **Connor [9:35 PM]:** you know the thing that spins? i wanna call it a roundabout but its literally not

Evan thinks it might be, actually, but doesn’t want to try correcting him. Connor gets kind of weird about that, when he’s done it before.

 **Evan [9:38 PM]:** why?

 **Evan [9:39 PM]:** sorry, that was rude. i know the one you’re talking about, i just don’t really know why you’re asking about it? though i guess probably you would’ve explained if i’d just said i knew it. sorry

Connor’s tried to get Evan to stop apologising so much more than a few times, but it never sticks - Evan ends up feeling guilty about wanting to apologise, and then wants to apologise for that, and it always ends up slipping its way into the conversation somehow. Connor’s just taken to kind of ignoring him when he says sorry, now, and it’s not ideal, but it works.

 **Connor [9:41 PM]:** we should go

 **Connor [9:41 PM]:** im bored

That doesn’t make any sense at all. Connor and Evan don’t hang out.

They can text, that’s fine, but they haven’t even called since the battleships thing, and Connor’s not really mentioned it, even. Doing things together, in the real world, in person - that’s off limits. Extremely so.

Connor has to be high, Evan thinks, or drunk, or otherwise in some sort of altered state. He’s not sure he wants to be around Connor while he’s not lucid. He’s not even sure he wants to be around Connor when he is lucid, honestly, because it’s never exactly gone well for the two of them, but he has a template for those interactions. He knows Connor will end up insulting him, probably, or being kind of a dick. It all comes back to how predictable a situation is going to be. This one isn’t, at all.

 **Evan [9:43 PM]:** what?

It’s a stupid text to send, really. He’s sure Connor’s going to tell him as much, actually, because that’s the kind of thing Connor does.

Evan can’t figure out the best way out of this. If he refuses to go he risks alienating Connor. If he goes… he also risks alienating Connor, to be honest. He risks a lot of things either way, because he has absolutely no idea what Connor wants from him, and how it might differ from what Connor will want when he’s sober again. If he’s high. Maybe he’s just having a weird moment. Evan can’t say.

 **Connor [9:46 PM]:** okay well u dont have to come but im gonna go

 **Connor [9:47 PM]:** ciao

Evan can say with about 75% confidence that this means that Connor is turning off his phone. Connor does that a lot, mainly because the phone he uses to text Evan is apparently not his actual phone, because his parents insist on going through his texts on his actual phone, and he ‘doesn’t need that shit right now, actually’. Because Connor is most definitely not supposed to have a second phone, he’s also not meant to charge it, which means he rarely gets the opportunity to at home. Connor’s parents are kind of weird about privacy, and not giving him any, Evan thinks.

So Connor usually only gets to charge his phone at school, during class, which he is also definitely not meant to do.

It’s a whole thing. It’s actually kind of ridiculous, the lengths Connor goes to to keep up regular contact with Evan. Well, Evan and whoever else he texts. According to Zoe it’s just his drug dealer, but she’s probably not the most reliable source of information about her brother.

It makes Evan feel kind of special, and also kind of guilty and awful and wrong.

The thing is, Evan really doesn’t want Connor going alone to a park at night, possibly high, or drunk, or something. Because he will be going alone, if Evan doesn’t go, and he won’t have told anyone he was leaving, because Connor doesn’t tell anyone that kind of thing, except Evan, sometimes. Rarely.

Which means Evan is sort of obliged to go. To make sure Connor’s okay, or, if not okay, at least reasonably safe. And if not reasonably safe to make sure he can phone an ambulance, or something.

Connor has impulse control problems. Evan’s learnt that much.

He tries not to think about it too much. When he does it feels like he’s speculating about something that’s decidedly not his business, and it makes his skin feel wriggly and alive, and it’s pretty awful. But he does, and it means that Evan worries. Evan would worry anyway, probably, but before he’d gotten talking to Connor he’d always assumed that even the kind of awful, self-destructive things he did he did entirely because he wanted to, and he had good reason to. Even if those reasons might have been flawed.

The reality of it is, as far as Evan can piece together, that Connor just does things.

Probably most of them he wants to do, at least subconsciously - but not all of them.

Connor hasn’t said that, of course, because Connor has a thing about sharing, but Evan thinks he has a reasonable grip on the situation, from the things he’s managed to puzzle out, from how much Connor seems to regret.

The point is that Evan has good reason to worry, and that means he has to do something.

Something means either telling someone that Connor’s gone out, which would probably piss Connor off beyond belief and leave him hating Evan forever, or going to the playground. It’s an easy choice, really.

 

* * *

 

He tells his mom he’s going out to see Jared. She gives him a funny look, and tells him not to stay out too late, but that’s all. Evan doesn’t let himself get upset about it.

It’s a ten minute walk to the park from his house, give or take, if you go via the back alleys. Evan doesn’t like to, because he’s weedy, and pathetic, and he’s always running over the worst case scenario in his head, but it seems important that he gets there quickly. He’s not sure how long Connor’s planning on staying there.

He’s not out of breath by the time he gets there, but the stress is making his lungs seize a little when he inhales, which feels like sort of the same thing.

He can’t immediately see Connor. He can’t really see anything at all, just dark silhouettes against a marginally lighter night sky, but it still gives him pause.

Evan walks towards where he thinks the gate is meant to be, pushing it open gently and blinking like it’ll change the lighting, that he’ll suddenly be able to tell what’s what.

“Hansen?” a voice calls out.

It’s Connor, obviously. He’s sitting on the top of a kid’s slide, and it makes his lanky frame look even more out of proportion than it usually does. He looks like some kind of monster, his limbs too long and too thin, but he sounds normal. Not that Evan’s ever really known Connor in person, to know what normal might be for him.

“Connor?” Evan asks, even though he knows it’s him.

“Hey,” Connor says. “I didn’t think you’d actually come. Sorry for dragging you out here.”

Evan immediately feels a pang of shame. He knew Connor wouldn’t actually want to spend time with him. He knew Connor had wanted to avoid meeting face to face, he’d known better, should’ve realised what an idiot he was being. Connor could look after himself, had managed fine before he’d started texting Evan. There was no good reason for him to be here.

He wants to explain himself, but can’t think of a way to do it without sounding as stupid as he feels.

“It’s okay,” he says.

Connor hums.

Evan walks over to the slide. He feels weird, and not an okay kind of weird, but a bad one. He shouldn’t be here.

“Oh, hey,” Connor says, suddenly, like he’s just suffered a minor realisation. “I brought this.”

He pulls out a book. It’s a sketchbook, actually, Evan realises after a moment of squinting, one of the expensive ones he’d never been able to afford. Connor flips through it for a second, too quickly for Evan to get a good look at any of the pages before he settles on the first blank one he can find.

“I figured I’d do the leaf rubbing thing, right? I know I kind of blew it off, but. I dunno. I needed something to do, and I couldn’t stay home, so.” He waves the book from side to side.

“Okay,” Evan says.

He’s embarrassing himself. He can’t even manage a full sentence, is only attempting the bare minimum. He’s so bad at social interaction it feels painful, but he’s not doing well, and it shows. He doesn’t know how to fix it.

Connor lets himself slip to the bottom of the slide, looking increasingly ridiculous with the way he has to contort himself not to fall off the side of the thing. Evan doesn’t laugh.

“C’mon,” he says to Evan, as he stretches, and wanders back towards the gate Evan had just come through.

Evan follows close behind, fingers curled tight in the fabric of his shirt.

“You’ll have to tell me, like, which trees are different. ‘Cause I can’t actually tell, so I’d just end up doing basically the same leaves over and over again, and there’s only so much paper I can afford to waste.”

“Okay,” Evan says, and then forces himself to keep talking. “I’m sorry, like. I’m really quiet, and I know it’s annoying, and I know you didn’t really want me here, obviously, so this must be super awkward for you, but. Just. Obviously I don’t want you to think, it’s not your fault? That I’m being like this. Just, I don’t know, if that was bothering you. I don’t know why it would be.”

Connor furrows his brow. Evan can just make out the confusion on his face in the moonlight, soft and cold.

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you to be here,” he says.

Evan doesn’t reply, but when Connor asks him to suggest trees that might have particularly interesting leaves, he doesn’t spend so long hesitating before he starts to talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd. i haven't even proofread this chapter, because it's been kind of a rush job - if there are any spelling/grammar problems i'll check them over in the morning! apologies in advance.
> 
> some of you may have noticed i've actually added a chapter count now - this is subject to change, but not overmuch. it's going to be a long ride
> 
> evan is an unreliable narrator. that's it. that's the fic
> 
> i'll see you guys next week!


	6. every single day, instinctively

“And do you think this is good for you, Evan?” Dr. Sherman asks, politely bland, smiling at Evan encouragingly.

Evan stares at the floor, and then at Dr. Sherman’s desk, and then at his feet. He once read something about how the direction you’re looking shows what you’re recalling, that certain patterns are linked to certain kinds of memories, that certain eye movements are supposed to show that you’re lying. He wonders if Dr. Sherman knows about any of this. He wonders what he thinks of Evan right now, if he’s expecting him to lie, if Evan _looks_ like he’s going to lie, if that’s the kind of thing therapists even care about.

“I guess,” he says, flatly, trying not to cringe away from the eye contact Dr. Sherman’s still trying to maintain.

“Do you want to be friends with Connor?”

“Yes,” Evan says. “I think so.”

Evan doesn’t think so, really, because he doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t know what he thinks. It’s becoming a bad habit, if it wasn’t already one, his inability to let himself think about anything even the slightest bit upsetting. It’s all he has. It works.

He’s talked about it before, in therapy. About the way he copes. He knows there are better ways to deal with things, he’s been told, he’s tried working on them. But it all feels so pointless when this has worked for him for so long. It’s protected him for years. He doesn’t want to try something new, for the chance that it might be healthier. He doesn’t want to risk the only thing that’s ever kept him safe.

He can’t say any of that though.

What does he have to complain about, really? It’s bad enough that he has to go to therapy in the first place. He’d feel even worse trying to explain the reasoning behind why he does what he does, when he has no good reason for any of it. Nothing bad ever happens to him, really. He has it so much better than so many other people. It feels cruel to act otherwise.

He makes it through the rest of the session with answers that barely qualify as sentences. It’s not that he has a problem with Dr. Sherman - or with therapy, really. In concept he’s all for it, is all for anything that might help. But there are too many silences that Evan feels obliged to fill.

A question will be asked, and he’ll have to answer. Evan’s not the kind of person who’s happy to just sit and think about an answer, comfortable in the quiet. He has to say something, feels a weird obligation, like he’s wasting everyone’s time if he’s not.

It’s no surprise that they never get very far. Dr Sherman’s suggestions help, sure, but they’re always so general that they can only be so applicable to Evan’s situation, his particular neuroses, especially when they never get any deeper than surface level.

It’s not worth complaining about. It’s Evan’s fault. It’d be the same no matter who he saw, and he at least knows Dr. Sherman now. He’s as happy to talk to him as he’ll ever be with a therapist. This is as good as it will ever get.

He’s worried he can’t be helped anymore. Maybe it’s his own fault he never gets any better.

 

* * *

 

“Have you thought about joining the GSA?” Alana asks one lunchtime. “Or any club, really. I’ve heard they help a lot with this kind of thing.”

Evan shakes his head. Alana knows how bad things have been getting recently, how busy his mom seems, how difficult it still is for Evan to adapt to the new status-quo, to the lack of Jared. He’d been one of the few constants in Evan’s life. It’s hard losing someone else important to him, and he’s only now realising just how much it’s been dragging him down.

Alana helps, or has been trying to. Evan’s still not sure they’re friends (it’s the situation with Connor all over again, and he can’t help but wonder if it’s just him, or if it’s always this difficult figuring out where you stand with people,) but she’s there. Connor is too, in his own way, though there’s always a kind of distance with him. He never feels entirely present.

“I don’t,” Evan says, “it’s not-”

Alana saves him from himself, of course, only lets him flounder for a moment before she interrupts.

“You don’t have to be LGBT, you know,” she begins, reassuringly, and Evan balks at the idea that she might think he’s protesting because it’s the GSA, instead of just a commitment he’s not sure he can make.

“It’s not that,” he says, “and, uh, for what it’s worth, I am, I guess. LGBT. But,” he pauses, awkwardly, trying to keep his voice down without being obvious about it. It’s not something he’s ever been ashamed of, but at the same time - well. He’s not that kind of naive. “I just don’t think I can. With any club, really. I can’t tell, uh, I never know how bad a day’s gonna be for me, right? I can’t commit to things. It’s just, it’s not that straightforward. I’m sorry.”

Alana frowns, but Evan can tell it’s not directed at him.

“If it’s the anxiety,” she says, “we can work around that. It’s not like you’d be obligated to attend every meeting, you know? It doesn’t need to be something you stress about. You can just come when you feel like it, and you don’t need to contribute! I guess I just thought it might be nice to talk to some other people. Everyone there’s lovely.”

He shrugs.

“Maybe. I don’t know. There’s just. There’s a lot of stuff, and I don't know if now’s the right time to be trying new things.”

“Right. Yes, of course,” Alana says, and Evan pretends he doesn’t hear the disappointment in her voice. Not for the first time, he asks himself if maybe she isn’t lonely. Alana knows so many people, but he’s never been able to gauge how many she’s actually close to. It doesn’t seem to be many.

“Um, not. Not that I wouldn’t, not that I’d never go, just. I don’t think now’s a good time,” he says.

Alana nods, expression pinched. Her hands move like she wants to grab something, like she needs something to hold.

Alana’s involved in a lot of things, but the GSA actually matters to her. It’s important, in a way a lot of the other clubs she’s involved in aren’t. Evan knows as much. This was her reaching out, and he’s let her down again, and while it’s not his fault, while he’s not doing it because he doesn’t want to, he still feels guilty. He feels like he keeps messing up, over and over again, never learning.

That’s the worst part, really, that he’s doomed to keep making the same mistakes. Evan doesn’t change. He stagnates.

“If, I don’t. Obviously you might not be interested, and I don’t, you don’t need to feel obliged to, but. If you wanted to talk about that kind of thing I’d be okay with it? LGBT stuff, I mean. I don’t really know what actually happens at the GSA, but it’s the whole group, dedicated time-period type thing that’s the problem. Not you, not being LGBT. You know? So, uh, I guess. Just. I don’t know. This sounded better in my head.”

Alana pats his shoulder. He laughs.

“You don’t need to push yourself for my sake, Evan,” Alana says, but she’s smiling, and his chest feels lighter than usual.

“No, really, I mean it. If that’s not weird. I never really talked about that kind of thing with Jared, so I don’t know. It might be nice.”

Alana nods, and smiles some more, and it finally feels like he might be doing something right. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.

He reaches a hand out, feeling ridiculous before he’s even started. “I’m Evan,” he tells her, awkwardly, “I’m bisexual.” He pauses for a beat. “That’s what you do at the GSA, right? I mean, I assume - do you do introductions there?”

Alana laughs, and shakes his hand. “I’m Alana,” she says, and her lip twitches like she wants to laugh again. “I’m a lesbian. And trans. It’s nice to meet you, Evan.”

It’s stupid. It’s good. Evan smiles and for once it doesn’t feel forced.

“This is silly,” he says.

Alana nods, and it doesn’t even feel like a dismissal. “Sure - but if it works it works, right?”

“Right,” Evan says, and he can hear the happiness in his voice. It not something he gets to hear often.

He goes back to eating his sandwich, and Alana goes back to talking about her day.

It doesn’t fix anything, and he’s not sure if they’ll ever actually _talk_ about things - but the option is there, for both of them. It’s a possibility. That might be enough.

He feels better for it. He thinks Alana might too.

 

* * *

 

About an hour or two after school lets out, Evan receives a text from Connor. Or - not a text, really, because it’s just a photo, no caption, or explanation whatsoever. It looks like a sunrise, the kind that you get as a default screensaver on a new laptop. Almost too perfect to be real.

 **Evan [5:23 PM]:** did you take this?

 **Connor [5:25 PM]:** yeah. pretty cool right?

 **Evan [5:26 PM]:** pretty cool

Evan’s impressed. He doesn’t say as much to Connor, because he’s tried to compliment him once or twice, and it only ever seems to make him uncomfortable.

It’s a beautiful photo. He doesn’t know why Connor’s sent it to him.

 

* * *

 

His mom sits him down on the couch late Thursday evening. Evan doesn’t bother trying to figure out why today’s different, why she has free time now - it’s gotten to the point that her schedule is entirely incomprehensible to him. Even when she is home now she’s usually too tired to talk. It’s another one of those things he’s written off as unimportant. It never changes anything, whether she’s home or not (and she isn’t, usually).

It’s uncomfortable. It’s quiet, and there’s an energy thrumming through Evan’s bones he can’t figure out a way to exorcise. He feels like he needs to be doing something, needs to be moving, but he can’t just stand up, can’t do anything that will draw attention to just how awful the situation feels. It’s a whole catch-22 sort of thing, where the only way for him to feel better is to do something, but to do something would make the situation even worse. It sucks. He busies himself thinking about that, instead of how sad his mom looks. It’s easier to deal with.

He’s never liked their couch. It’s old, and uncomfortable, cushions more decorative than anything else. His mom probably bought it to make the room look nicer - one of the few indulgences she’d allowed herself back then. Nowadays it’s just a sad reminder of how nothing ever changes for either of them, of how, despite their best efforts, the reality of their situation never quite matches the facade they’ve tried to construct out of it.

“Hey mom,” he tries.

“Hi, honey,” she says, trying for an enthusiasm it doesn’t feel like either of them possess right now.

“What - um, is there something you wanted to talk about?” he asks. He doesn’t want to seem inconsiderate, like he doesn’t want her there - but if they’re going to be having a difficult conversation he’d rather they just got on with it. He doesn’t have the energy for anything more.

“What, I can’t just want to spend some time with my son?” she asks, jokingly. It sounds just a little too close to genuine.

“Um,” Evan begins, before realising he has no good answer.

His mom’s smile fades. It’s his fault, he thinks. He should’ve just lied. Being honest never works for anyone. No one wants the truth when it hurts like that.

“I guess I just wanted to know how you were doing,” she says. “I haven’t seen Jared around for a while. How’s it going with Dr. Sherman? Is the medication helping, or do you think you need your dosage increased again?”

Evan stares at his feet. His socks don’t match.

“I’m okay,” he says, because it’s easier than explaining. “Jared’s just busy. Dr. Sherman’s helping. The meds are okay, I think.”

It’s meant to help, meant to reassure her, but he can’t manage more than the shortest of replies, and he can tell it’s upsetting her. He’s not sure it’s something he can fix.

“Sorry,” he says, “Just - I’m really tired, and I have a lot of work, and, I don’t know. Sorry.”

“It’s like I barely see you anymore, Evan,” Heidi says, eyes downcast and smile strained. It doesn’t reach her eyes. Evan wants to reach up and smooth out the creases of her face, paint them over in white so he doesn’t have to think about it anymore. “We never talk.”

“You aren’t home anymore,” he says. “You’re never home. I’m sorry if - if that’s hard to hear, but it’s not my fault that we never talk. I’m always here.” He laughs, pained. “I don't have anywhere else to go. You’re the one who’s never around.”

He doesn’t want to hurt her. Or, no, that’s not quite right - he doesn’t want to want to hurt her. Wants to not want to hurt her. But he’s tired, and sad, and _he’s_ hurting, right now, has been hurting for a while now, and it only ever gets worse, and what’s she ever done to help? A therapist is no substitute for a mother.

He wants to be a good kid, but he’s tired of trying for someone who’s never around to say it.

He could’ve softened the blow, could’ve brushed off the comment. He had so many options, so many ways to diffuse the situation. That’s the kicker. He immediately feels guilty, because that’s what Evan does, that’s who he is, guilt multiplied but never addressed, and yet he’s not sure he made the wrong decision. He’s not sure if he’s feeling guilty because he actually feels guilty, or because he knows he’s supposed to.

“Evan, I’m... You can’t. Everything,” Heidi says, before her voice breaks, awful, loud and heart-wrenching. “Everything I’ve ever done, everything I’m doing now, I’m doing for you. I want you to be happy. I wanted you to have the opportunities I never got to have. I’m sorry, if - that I couldn’t do more. I’m sorry if that wasn’t enough for you.”

It wasn’t, Evan thinks. It isn’t.

“I know, mom.” Evan stares at the table, slides a fingernail against one of the ridges running along its edge. He doesn’t know how to feel. He’s not sure he feels anything at all.

He should feel worse about this, he tells himself. He should. He should be apologising, should be telling Heidi he understands, that he doesn’t hold any of it against her, that he knows, he knows, he _knows_. That he doesn’t resent her for any of it.

Knowing how he should feel doesn’t make up for the emptiness in his chest, though. He doesn’t say anything at all before he pushes his chair out from the table, picks up his papers and leaves.

He thinks he hears his mom start to cry. He prays it’s just the wind. That he’s just imagining it. He doesn’t stop to check.

Evan goes upstairs, and sits down on his bed, and thinks.

He should reply to Connor, he tells himself. He’d sent Evan a handful of texts throughout the day, and while Evan’s usually pretty prompt about responding school had been… bad. The day hasn’t picked up since then.

Talking to Connor helps, usually - but not always. He can’t tell if today’s going to be one of those days or not.

 **Evan [4:16 PM]:** sorry i didn’t reply sooner. school was bad, and then my mom wanted to talk, and it’s all just. i don’t know. Sorry

 **Connor [4:17 PM]:** its cool

 **Connor [4:18 PM]:** is it ok if i call? i know i dont usually but

Evan waits a minute or two for an explanation. He doesn’t get one, and doesn’t push to ask.

 **Evan [4:21 PM]:** ok

He feels something begin to build in his chest, a tide receding and then rushing forwards, an intense, aching fear that grows stronger and deeper with each second that passes. He breathes in slowly, and counts, and tells himself that it’s only a phone call, and it’s only Connor, and that things are going to be okay.

His phone starts to ring. He picks it up.

“Hey, Connor,” Evan says.

“Hansen,” Connor says in response, because he still won’t call Evan by his actual name, for some reason.

Evan isn’t sure what he’s meant to say. He doesn’t know what Connor wants, isn’t sure what’s going on. More than anything he just wants to sleep, sink into a peaceful oblivion and not have to think about any of his problems for a while.

“Um,” Connor says.

Evan’s immediately on edge, more than he was already. Connor always has something to say. He doesn’t hesitate, has never needed to before. Evan’s not prepared for a serious conversation right now. He never is, and certainly not for a serious conversation with Connor, but hell, couldn’t it have waited a day or two? A few hours, at least?

It feels hideously unfair.

“Are you okay?” Evan asks, because he has to.

Connor laughs. It doesn’t sound right.

“I don’t know what’s going on anymore,” Connor tells him. “Look. I don’t… I know you don’t want me to talk to you about this. I know you don’t want to hear it. But I don’t…” He trails off, goes quiet and soft and far too calm, and Evan wants to cry from frustration and fear and guilt. “I don’t know what else - I don’t know.”

It’s not fair. None of it is. None of it ever is.

“Connor,” Evan managed, before he’s interrupted.

“You don’t need to say anything. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I just thought - I don’t know. I know you can’t help. It was stupid to ask.”

He can’t help, Evan tells himself. He can’t help. Connor has said as much himself.

There’s nothing he can do. There are other people Connor can talk to, other people who can help in all the ways Evan’s can’t, so many other options that don’t involve him at all. Evan’s broken too. He’s not someone who can fix this. He wouldn’t even know where to begin.

There are so many reasons to avoid this conversation. There are so many reasons not to try. He has so many good reasons.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Connor doesn’t reply.

“I wish I could help.”

“Yeah,” Connor says, quietly.

He hangs up after that. Evan sends him a couple of texts.

He doesn’t reply.

 

* * *

 

Connor’s in school the next day.

Evan tries to feel relieved. Mainly he just feels sick.

For all that Evan and Connor had started talking in an attempt to help each other with their mental health problems they rarely actually talk about anything serious. Evan’s problems tend to slip out when he’s rambling, but Connor always plays his cards close to his chest. He doesn’t talk about his mental health, barely lets onto the fact that he even has problems. Any symptoms he might have he tries to write off as personality flaws. Evan still can’t figure out if it’s a conscious decision, or he really does have such a low opinion of himself that he can’t separate the two anymore.

Evan doesn’t know if Connor’s even okay, most of the time.

He knows so much about him, now, so many pointless facts, useless trivia, details that will never amount to anything of importance, and he can’t even say with any confidence whether Connor is coping. What coping would mean to a person like Connor.

Evan knows a lot about him. It doesn’t make him a good friend. He’s not sure it makes him a friend at all.

It’s not his fault, though, is the thing. That’s what he keeps telling himself. Connor is closed off, a house with shuttered windows and a door that never opens. He doesn’t try to reach out. He doesn’t try to ask Evan for help. Connor doesn’t seem to ask _anyone_ for help.

Maybe helping Evan just makes him feel good. Maybe he just needs the conversation. Maybe he doesn’t expect anything more of him at all, but it’s not fair that Evan’s left feeling guilty for a problem he can’t change, a problem he’s not even sure exists. None of it’s fair.

Things are meant to get easier with time - he has Alana now, he has Connor in as much of a capacity as he thinks he’ll ever get to. He has friends, he sees people regularly, he’s on meds and in therapy and he’s meant to be getting _better,_ damnit. He tries not to think about Jared, or his mom, or money, and most of the time it works. He should be starting to feel okay.

He’s not.

Maybe the GSA really would be good for him. Maybe he needs to stop worrying about Connor. He’d been doing fine before Evan entered the picture. It’s not like he needs him in his life. It’s not like Evan’s ever done anything to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd. a couple of things worth pointing out: don't be like evan. if your therapist isn't working out for you say something about it. ik that's easier said than done, but i can't stress enough what a waste of time it can be sticking with someone who isn't helping you. there will be someone out there who can, and it's worth it trying to find them
> 
> this chapter is shorter than normal. if you follow me you're probably aware i have pretty severe mental health problems, and they're getting worse, but i wanted to at least post something. this fic isn't getting abandoned, but updates will probably be shorter for a while, so i can focus on irl stuff, and updates may be slightly more sporadic. i'll do what i can
> 
> alana's trans. i probably won't touch on this much in the fic, for various reasons, but i thought it was important that it was at least acknowledged at some point. connor's been kind of absent recently. that will change soon (& there should be more Obvious pining)
> 
> evan is not a bad person. he is not necessarily a good one either. please don't assume the choices he makes are right, or ones that i endorse, just because he's the narrator here
> 
> i'm sure i had more to say, but i can't for the life of me remember any of it. as always, my tumblr's @goldspill if you have questions, or want to see a lot of obnoxious blogging about musical theatre! &, finally, thank you so much for your comments. i can't stress enough what a motivator positive feedback is for me. i'll see you all (hopefully) this time next week


	7. feel shame, real shame

Jared and Zoe have started talking. It’s not something Evan noticed at first - he’s had a lot going on (and, to be honest, still does,) but it’s obvious now that he knows to look for it. They sit together at lunch (Jared having apparently sacrificed the burgeoning relationship he’d had with the comp sci kids, as he fell in with Zoe’s lot). They talk in the halls, meet by their lockers, both give Connor filthy looks.

It’s hard not to wonder exactly what Connor ever did to Zoe. Evan thinks about it a lot, nowadays, now he knows just how capable Connor is of being amicable. The animosity between them goes far beyond what Evan would consider sibling rivalry. Sometimes it really does seem like Zoe hates him.

Connor, to his credit, never seems to express any ill will towards his sister (aside from when he’s replying to her - then he’s kind of awful), so he has to assume it’s something Connor did, rather than a mutual thing. It’s the sort of thing Evan would probably have assumed regardless.

It doesn’t help explain things, though, because Connor must have been genuinely horrible to her, to deserve this kind of treatment, for it to a reasonable reaction. And from what Evan’s seen Connor might be obnoxious, and rude, and way too impulsive - but he’s not a horrible person. He’s not a monster.

And Zoe’s a nice person. She’s reasonable, or Evan had always thought so at least 0 and he’s paid attention. Zoe goes out of her way to help people, talks to everyone, always says please and thank you and holds the door open, and Evan doesn’t understand why she would treat her brother any differently. She brushes off so many things from so many other people. He doesn’t understand what Connor’s done that was so unforgivable.

He doesn’t think that the kind of thing you can just ask someone though, especially someone like Connor. He’s still not sure how far he’s allowed to push, and Connor’s mood swings are infamous. He’s never going to get any answers from him without asking either, because Connor still doesn’t tell him anything important. Evan’s not sure he’ll ever find an answer.

Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe he really is awful, maybe Connor’s exactly what Jared always said he was, behind closed doors. It’s a terrible thought, but if that’s the case - Evan’s not sure he wants to know. He likes Connor.

Alana nudges him gently with her shoulder as she sits down beside him and pulls out a lunchbox. It’s kind of sweet, how precisely Alana packs everything, how prepared she always seems. Everything has its place. Evan’s lunch habits are inconsistent at best. Normally he tries to scrape a meal together from whatever he can find at home, leftovers or scraps from whenever they last went grocery shopping. On bad days, when Evan’s too worked up to remember things like lunch, when his anxiety has him so highly strung that he can’t think more than five minutes ahead - then he’ll buy lunch in the cafeteria.

She follows his gaze over to Jared and Zoe, and Evan can see her frown out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, Zoe brought Jared along to the last GSA meeting. I was wondering whether that meant they’d been hanging out or something.”

Evan grimaces. “Yeah. I think it started like a week ago? Or that’s, I guess that’s when I noticed it happening. But I hadn’t really been looking, so I don’t - so who knows how long it might have been going on for, you know?”

“Well, Zoe _had_ said that being around her normal friends had been kind of stifling lately. Maybe this is a good thing for them! I think Jared might’ve been getting kind of lonely.”

Evan glares at his sandwich, and tries to pretend he’s just, that he has a real thing against ham or something. That he’s not still bitter about Jared.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

Evan’s actually entirely sure that it is very much a bad thing - at least for him. Zoe and Jared talking can only mean bad things. Jared hates him now, or near enough. Jared knew, or knows, or whatever - about Evans weird, probably kind of obsessive crush on her. Jared couldn’t just be doing this to make a friend. He has to be doing this to hurt Evan, or to blackmail him, or _something_. He’s up to something. He has to be.

It’s kind of painful, realising just how little he trusts the person he’d always considered his best (only) friend. But it’s Jared. Evan knows Jared.

It’s all just far too convenient.

“What do you think we should do for the history project?” Alana asks, and it’s enough of a distraction that Evan can put Jared out of his mind, just for a bit.

Evan gives a vague answer (he has no idea), and then just sits and listens to Alana talk. She’s the smart one. Evan can work on the presentation, the research side of things, anything that doesn’t involve too much talking, or thinking. He nods a lot, and says little, figures that’s probably how he’s going to be spending the rest of the hour.

Connor sits down next to him.

Evan tries not to act surprised, because he has a feeling that would only irritate Connor - Connor who had made quite clear the fact that they weren’t going to be interacting in school, Connor who was blatantly disregarding this, who seemed to be doing so while entirely sober. He has a feeling asking questions about why Connor’s suddenly changed his tune would be just as unappreciated.

Connor gives Alana a nod, and Alana waves, and Evan stares holes into the table and doesn’t think about Connor’s leg pressed up against his own.

Connor shifts to look at him, and Evan resolutely continues to stare at inanimate objects, and then the walls of the cafeteria (and god, they are dull), and pretty much anything that isn’t Connor.

“Hey, Hansen,” Connor says, and Evan’s chest does something weird when he thinks about how many times he’s seen that sent over text before now, and how different it feels hearing it said out loud to him, in person.

They’ve hung out together before, they’ve phoned each other and had weird late night meetings in the local park - but they’re in school now, around people, and Connor’s still talking to him like they might almost be friends.

“Hi, Connor,” he says.

“Skip with me,” Connor says.

Alana gives him a disapproving look, and it’s baffling how normal it all feels. Alana’s mentioned talking to Connor before, working with him on school stuff, but Evan hadn’t realised they were actually comfortable around each other.

“What?” Evan asks, because there’s a limit to the amount he can process at any one time, and Connor’s constantly suggesting things Evan doesn’t really understand.

“I can’t be asked to go to next period, so I’m skipping. Come with me.”

Alana frowns some more, and Connor gives her a thumbs up.

“Uh,” Evan says.

He thinks about it. In all honestly he’s not feeling super enthusiastic about going to fifth period, and it _is_ only bio. Evan’s good enough at biology that he probably doesn’t need to be there, especially because it’s the one of the few subjects he usually reads ahead for.

Connor raises his eyebrows expectantly, taps his fingers in staccato rhythm against the table.

“I guess I could,” he says, because he’s not sure he wants to fully commit, what with Alana there, looking decidedly unimpressed.

“I’m not going to criticise your choices, Evan,” she says plainly, “but you know how I feel about skipping.”

Evan laughs nervously, and averts his gaze. He’s gotten pretty good at dodging eye contact.

“Cool,” Connor says, and stands. He pats Evan on the back and turns to leave, calling over his shoulder as he goes. “Meet by my locker after lunch then, yeah?”

Evan nods, though he knows Connor can’t see it.

Alana tilts her head, looking at Evan like she’s trying to figure out something important. Evan meets her eyes, and blinks, and waits for an explanation. She just hums, and carries on talking about her ideas for the history project. Evan lets it go.

 

* * *

 

Evan realises quickly he’s not actually sure where Connor’s locker is. He settles for just standing in the corridor by the school entrance, wringing his hands and praying no teachers walked by. Now that he’s _actually_ skipping he’s really regretting agreeing to it. He’s only been in trouble a handful of times, and he always ends up crying over it. It’s stupid, and childish, but Evan doesn’t cope well with being overwhelmed, or people being disappointed in him, or doing things he’s not supposed to do. He’s definitely not supposed to be skipping.

“Hey,” Connor says, approaching him, “I forgot you probably don’t know wh-”

“Connor,” Evan interrupts him, hurriedly, “I really don’t - I think maybe this was a bad idea, just, I really don’t want to get in trouble. I don’t, obviously I don’t usually do this kind of thing, and it’s not like I don’t want to hang out with you, just, well. Skipping.”

Connor shrugs. “Up to you, man. Alana will cover for you though.”

“What?”

“Alana. She always tells the teacher I’ve been sick or whatever when I skip. Obviously they don’t believe her, but she’s like the star student,” Connor says, emphasising ‘star student’ with a kind of half-hearted attempt at jazz hands, “so they never call her out on it. She’d do the same for you.”

Evan’s still confused.

“Why - how do you know she’s in fifth period bio with me?”

Connor shrugs again.

“Look, I’m just gonna go. You can come with if you want, or you can probably just about make it to class if you say you had to speak to the nurse or something. I’ll see you around.”

Evan wants to go with him. Biology will be boring, and Connor might be kind of intimidating, most of the time, but he’s interesting, and Evan likes talking to him, and really - what’s skipping one class going to do to his school record?

“Um,” Evan says, “wait, I’ll, uh. I’ll come with you.”

“Alright,” Connor says, and starts to head out of the building. Evan follows him.

They walk for a while without talking. Evan’s too nervous to breach the silence himself, and Connor seems content to just lead Evan wherever it is he’s decided they’re going. Evan mostly just looks at the floor, and thinks. He’s not sure what, if anything, he should be doing about the whole Zoe and Jared thing. Just the thought of it makes him feel a little ill, and he’s not sure how well he’s going to be able to cope with the anticipation. Jared’s going to do _something_. He’s not sure what. He’s not sure how to stop him.

“You can say something, you know,” Connor says, spinning on his heel to look at Evan. Evan wants to tell him it’s not safe to walk backwards, and that he’s going to fall, and that he wasn’t sure Connor would actually want to listen to him. He doesn’t.

Instead, Evan asks a question.

“Why did you talk to me at lunch? Not, um, not that - it wasn’t a bad thing, but, well. I thought… I don’t know.” Evan stops himself, because he’d already decided that he wasn’t going to ask Connor about it, and he’s just digging himself a deeper hole at this point. He curses the fact that his response to awkward pauses is to just say whatever he’s thinking.

Connor snorts.

“It was never meant to be, like. A rule or whatever. I don’t really care if you want to talk to me. I just know school makes me super pissy, so. Your funeral, right?”

“Uh. Okay,” Evan says.

Connor nods at him, and finally turns back round to face the path. He’s not sure if it’s just because Connor’s used to wanting to get out of places quickly or something, but Evan’s kind of struggling to keep pace with him. It doesn’t help that his legs are noticeably shorter. It’s unfair.

They’re going to the park again, Connor’s informed him. Or, not the actual park, but the big field part that backs onto it. Connor hasn’t explained why, and Evan suspects that he’ll continue not to until the last possible moment.

It’s not quite an endless expanse of greenery, but it’s calm, and quiet, and the weather’s warm. There are worst places to be. Connor walks him towards the centre of the field, and then sits him down in the grass. Evan stares into the horizon.

“So,” Evan starts.

Connor hums, and opens his bag, and hands him a book. Evan’s not sure what to think, at first - his mind goes back to The Little Prince, _‘you see, one loves the sunset when one is so sad’_ , before he realises the book doesn’t have a title. He flicks through it. The pages are blank.

“Um, Connor,” Evan says. “I, uh, I don’t know - but if this is, for like, us to draw, I can’t. I’m so bad at drawing.”

“It’s not,” Connor says, amused. “Zoe was doing some stuff with pressed flowers yesterday. I figured it was something to try.”

Evan pauses.

“Why are, like, 70% of the things we do together, like. Nature-y. Did you actually - is, is the only thing you know about me that I like trees?”

“What?” Connor asks, sounding more defensive than he probably should. “I know loads about you, you just always say you don’t have any hobbies or do like. Anything. You just talk about trees and your park ranger thing until I change the subject.”

He’s not wrong.

“I think you’re meant to use parchment paper and stuff, but I didn’t know if you’d actually be into this kind of thing so I didn’t wanna fork out however much on stuff that’d never get used,” Connor tells him.

Evan’s touched by the thought that Connor might actually be doing this kind of thing for Evan’s benefit, rather than it just being another facet of his impulsivity. He also feels kind of guilty. He likes spending time with Connor, likes talking to him and tagging along with whatever it is that he’s decided he’s doing next, but he’s never stopped to ask himself whether they actually do anything Connor enjoys. He always assumed that Connor was doing things because he wanted to, that Evan was just invited along when he felt like having company.

It’s a weird thought, that somebody might actually be looking out for him. He’d forgotten what it felt like.

“I actually think we might be doing this completely wrong,” Connor says, later, once they’d spent an hour or so collecting whatever they could from the field. “Like, I really don’t know what I’m doing. I looked up a wikihow thing but I got bored after the first step.”

Evan laughs, and it’s the most relaxed he’s felt all day.

 

* * *

 

He’s maybe 5 minutes away from his house when Evan realises he’s taken the book home with him.

**Evan [4:37 PM]:** i’m so sorry connor, i totally forgot to give you the book back. do you want me to bring it in tomorrow?

**Connor [4:39 PM]:** keep it dude

**Connor [4:40 PM]:** just lmk if any of them actually turn out alright

Evan smiles at his phone, and then schools his face into an expression that isn’t hugely embarrassing. Connor’s his friend. Connor cares, and gives him stuff, and talks to him, and it definitely isn’t something he should be getting weird about.

 

* * *

 

He tells himself he’s not going to be weird about it.

“Do you think Connor and I are friends?” he asks Alana the day after.

“What?” Alana says, and then, “I mean, I’d assume so. Zoe thinks you are.”

Which isn’t exactly the enthusiastic response he’d been hoping for. He’s also not sure that Zoe’s the best reference to use for things relating to Connor, or why Alana and Zoe had been talking about him and Connor. Evan likes to pretend that he stops existing to people when he’s not actually with them. It’s nice, to think that maybe people don’t just go home and think about how annoying he is. He’d rather be forgotten.

“Zoe?” Evan says.

Alana nods. “She goes to the GSA meetings, right? She asked me about it while we were wrapping things up. I guess she noticed I was eating lunch with you. I don’t really know why she was interested. Should I not have said anything?”

Alana’s thoughtful like that, though it’s kind of too little too late at this point.

“No, that’s okay,” Evan says, because he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings even though he is kind of annoyed. Just a bit.

“She’s very nice, you know,” Alana tells him, and Evan feigns surprise, like he doesn’t know all about Zoe Murphy, and how nice a person she seems. “I think she’s worried about you.”

That’s not a surprise, though it does feel kind of patronising. Zoe’s looks are never quite as heated as Jared’s - Evan gets the impression she’s more annoyed with Connor for hanging out with him than with Evan for letting him.

“I don’t, it doesn’t make sense to me,” Evan says, “why she hates Connor so much. Like, I know, obviously it’s none of my business, but I don’t know. I don’t get it.”

Alana bites her lip, like she’s not sure if this is the kind of thing she should be talking about. Evan knows the feeling. He feels kind of ashamed for even mentioning the fact that there’s any animosity there, like it’s one of those weird, public secrets. The kind of thing everyone’s fully aware of, but that no one mentions out of courtesy.

“Look,” Alana says, quietly. It’s not hushed, not like she’s confessing to some interesting gossip she’d overheard or something. Not that Alana would indulge gossip anyway, but - she sounds sad. Like she cares. “Connor’s - he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Evan’s aware of that much, opens his mouth to tell Alana so, because he’s sick of people assuming he’s just naive, or ignorant, that he needs to be told that Connor’s kind of bad news. Evan doesn’t think he is, really, but he understands the theory behind the thought.

Alana doesn’t let him speak.

“I mean, I don’t. Obviously it’s not my place to say anything, really, and I don’t - I don’t have any details, and I wouldn’t tell you them anyway. But you’re hanging out with Connor a lot now, and I don’t think that’s a bad thing - but. I don’t know.”

Evan feels like he’s missing something.

“The impression I get from Zoe,” Alana says, “is that Connor’s awful to her. Or was? I don’t know, I think maybe he’s not _as_ bad anymore, but - she’s scared of him, Evan. I guess it’s easier to be angry than terrified.”

Evan doesn’t have the words to reply. Alana picks at her food.

Connor’s nice, though, Evan thinks. He’s _nice_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unbeta'd. also a shorter chapter than usual, and a day late. still working on that
> 
> my tumblr is, as always, @goldspill, if you want to see me blogging about how much i hate melchior gabor. thank u all for ur continued support. feedback is the greatest motivator in the world


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